


Saving Victor

by Hey_Diddle_Diddle25



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Backstory, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Yakov Nikiforov, Protective Yuri Plisetsky, Sex, Victor is too pretty, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_Diddle_Diddle25/pseuds/Hey_Diddle_Diddle25
Summary: Victor woke up in a clearing he didn't recognize, in clothes he didn't recognize, with people he didn't know telling him they loved him and that they were engaged. Then things get weird.(or, alternatively, the author woke up and decided she wanted to hurt Victor and it took 22,000 words to accomplish that apparently.)





	Saving Victor

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not this was supposed to be short. Obviously that didn't work out. Regardless, I hope you can find to enjoy it anyways.

  * Victor | Now •



Victor woke up freezing.

He blinked, head pulsing, as colors and shapes filtered into his blurry vision. It made him groan as he rolled over, trying to come up with an excuse he could tell Yakov on why he was late to practice. Instead his face crunched against the snow, and he bolted upright in sudden panic.

He was in a white field surrounded by trees. The large ones he sees in old paintings all the time, snow drooping from its limbs in what little protest it could manage. Other than that, Victor couldn’t make out any other forms of life. Minus him he wasn’t sure there was anything else.

He shivered, trying to remember the last thing he recalled. It was blurry and disoriented and he was already numb from his however long nap in the middle of freezing nowhere.

It certainly didn’t help that the coat he was currently wearing was several sizes too large. It was warm, though, and Victor never stopped to think about the what-it-could-mean as long as he hadn’t froze to death.

Patting down his pockets he found a cellphone that didn’t look like the one he remembered, but the name on it was his own. Unsure of what that could mean he scrolled down the contacts- passing names he didn’t know- before settling on Yakov.

His coach answered immediately, anger coloring his voice and it was the only familiar thing since waking up and it made Victor smile fondly. Yakov sounded everything except _fond_.

“Where have you been?” Yakov demanded, voice harsh in that way it got whenever he was worried, “Don’t answer. I’m sure I wouldn’t approve. I want you to know I’m getting too old for this. Yuuri called me every ten minutes asking if I’ve heard anything from you. Do you even realize how worried he’s been?”

Victor frowned at that name. He couldn’t recall a Yuuri, but it didn’t sound like Yakov disapproved.

“For an old man you sure have a lot of energy,” Victor noted instead trying to keep the budding panic from enveloping him completely.

He woke up in a field with clothes that were not his own and now Yakov was throwing around names he did not know. Victor rubbed at his head, brushing long bangs from out of his face. His hair was getting long, it was about time for him to cut it off except he secretly enjoyed the way Yakov fretted over it.

From the other side of the phone he heard Yakov growl.

He must’ve really concerned this Yuuri person. Victor secretly hoped it wasn’t another journalist whose interview Victor forgot about. Yakov would certainly murder him then.

“I had really hoped you’d have grown out of your antics by now,” Yakov informed him, his voice deep and ancient and Victor felt his ears tingle at the words.

He’d just turned eighteen- way above Russia’s standards for manhood- but Yakov had never indicated he expected that of him. He still let him keep his long hair and never let him drink at any of the banquets or date anybody that was more than a couple months older than him.

It made Victor’s head hurt- his suspicions that this Yuuri person was a reporter appear more and more plausible- and that would make Victor irresponsible if he missed yet another interview.

The one thing Yakov expected from him and if Victor somehow managed to screw that up then Yakov could drop him, and Victor would have to give up ice skating because he couldn’t do it without Yakov. Rumors of his impudence had already spread, and Yakov has enough power that no one would dare challenge him by taking a student he’d declared unfit.

Victor’s breath caught in the back of his throat. His vision swam with tears he didn’t bother catching. It wasn’t like anyone was around to see him.

“No snappy comment to that I see-” Yakov started, gloating, but Victor’s panic got the better of him and he found himself interrupting.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’ll be good. I’ll make it up to this Yuuri person. I promise Yakov,” Victor begged shamelessly before he added almost choking, “I won’t call you names anymore either. I just- I-”

His voice trailed off and he curled further into the oversized jacket. He was thankful for it considering it was all he was wearing. The thought made him blush even as he pressed the phone against his face. That was why, the next time Yakov spoke, Victor was able to hear him at all.

“Vitya? What happened? What do you remember?” and his voice was gentle now, carried with a sense of urgency Victor wasn’t sure belonged.

Obviously he’d done something stupid and- obviously- because of it his coach was going to abandon him. It was a fear Victor hadn’t even realized he had until that moment, and he blamed the fact that he’d probably been out in the field all night to impede his thought process.

“I’ll make it up to Yuuri,” Victor babbled instead of answering his coach’s questions, “I promise. I’ll be good. I’ll-”

“Victor!” Yakov snapped and, at his name, Victor stilled; Yakov sucked in a deep breath before he demanded in the softest tone Victor’s ever heard him use before, “Where are you right now?”

Victor blinked, glancing around in hopes of finding any clue to where he was or how he’d gotten there. There was nothing- not even footprints in the unblemished snow. He shivered as the thought of being the only living thing for miles and miles.

“I-I’m not sure. A field of some sort,” Victor admitted before adding because it could be helpful, “It’s surrounded by trees. I can’t remember how I got here. Sorry.”

“It’s okay Vitya,” Yakov promised and his voice remained surprisingly soft, “Keep your phone on. We’ll track you through GPS.”

Victor snorted, pressing his cheek against his knee, as he added in an almost dreamy tone, “For someone who complains about his age you sure are knowledgeable in such manners. What’re you trying to cover up my dear coach?”

Victor could practically hear Yakov grinding his teeth together from the other side of the phone. For whatever reason riling the older man up was comforting- a single constant.

That is, until Yakov spoke once more, “Vitya. How old are you?”

Victor furrowed his brow but answered, “I turned eighteen last month. Don’t you remember? You bought me new skates.”

There was a long pause before Yakov informed him curtly, “I’m on my way Victor. Don’t go anywhere.”

Victor heard himself giggle as he reassured, “Where would I go? I don’t even know where I’m at,” which resulted in a frustrated grunt but Yakov didn’t bother saying anymore.

Victor curled in on himself, relieved to find his entire body could sit in the jacket. It made him feel impossibly younger- like a child in their parents’ clothes. Only Victor didn’t have any parents and this wasn’t Yakov’s jacket.

“Yakov,” Victor murmured because the cold had numbed his brain and he’d somehow managed to convince himself that this needed to be said, “I don’t know whose jacket I’m in.”

“You’ve never seen it before,” Yakov’s breathy voice asked and Victor shook his head before he remembered his coach couldn’t see him.

“No and I’m not wearing anything underneath it,” Victor added shamelessly, “It’s warm though. I’m glad they left it.”

“Vitya listen to me,” Yakov started slowly but Victor yawned, blinking sluggishly.

When did he get so sleepy? He couldn’t recall.

“I’ve got to go Yakov,” Victor interrupted, Yakov’s words fuzzy in his ears anyways, “I’m getting sleepy.”

“Vitya, no! Do not hang up this phone,” Yakov demanded and Victor felt his body obey despite himself- not that it mattered.

“Hey you! Little girl! What’re you doing over there?” a sudden- loud- voice demanded and Victor blinked, suddenly not tired anymore, as he scrambled to his feet so he could see the approaching figure.

It was a man in a bear’s body, surely. Huge and hairy and could easily snap Victor in half. Dark eyes glared at him as the man stomped across the field towards him, and Victor felt fear creep down his spine. It didn’t help that his legs had long since gone numb to the cold, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to remain upright.

Victor almost forgot about the phone still pressed to his ear until Yakov’s apprehensive voice spoke once more, “Vitya? What is that? Talk to me you foolish boy.”

Victor didn’t reply- couldn’t talk. He could only stand there and stare as the man closed the distance between them. His instincts were screaming at him to run- escape- but his body was cold and tired and he couldn’t will himself to move.

“Answer me!” the stranger boomed suddenly right there and Victor blinked before he ran, legs carrying him across the snow.

He’d dropped the cell phone, which he supposed was fortunate when a hand circled around his bicep and jerked him to a stop. He cried out in shock, eyes wide as he was spun around so he was facing the stranger once more.

The man’s eyes just squinted as he grunted, “What the hell are you?”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor squeaked as fear crawled up his throat to steal his voice, “I’m terribly sorry. I’m not- I won’t-”

The hand shook him, and he felt his head loll to the side. The man was still glaring like he didn’t quite trust him, but the rest of his face had gotten softer. Victor suspected that that was because he probably looked as pathetic as he felt.

“Who brought you here?” the man demanded and Victor shook his head once more, mouth hanging open useless.

“I- I don’t know. I did, I guess,” Victor babbled because it was probably his fault, he’d gotten himself in enough situations to know he didn’t need outside help for that.

“This isn’t a place people just wonder into,” the man snapped shaking Victor again, “Someone brought you here. Why? Who are you?”

“I don’t know,” Victor cried reaching out to push the hand away as he begged, “Please let go. You’re hurting me.”

The man frowned disapprovingly. Victor felt his heart sink at the expression.

“I’m sorry kid,” the man finally sighed before Victor was spun around, large hand smothering his nose and mouth.

Victor lashed out- suddenly desperate- but the man was strong and had the better hold on him and the last thing Victor remembered was how the sky had a tinge of purple in it and a voice carrying him to the other side.

( _You’re not yet finished, Victor_ )

 

  * Yuuri | Then •



It was no secret that Yuuri loved Victor- has most of his life. It was also no secret that he would often regard the Russian with a dopey expression that radiated his love and warmth.

Yuuri did not feel that expression on his face at that moment.

He didn’t feel any love, either. Just anger at the fact that Victor conveniently forgot he promised to take him on a date and ended up taking a nap on their couch as he demanded Yuuri to cook him something. Yuuri didn’t move, just stood there glaring.

This was the third time in two weeks, and though the first time was kind of cute that feeling did not carry over the next two times. Yet there Victor laid dressed in casual sweats as he regarded Yuuri with his best seducing face, empty bottles scattered around his prone figure.

“Yuuri,” the man whined arching his spine and reaching out to Yuuri, “I’m hungry. Make me something delicious, okay.”

It wasn’t a question.

Victor really expected Yuuri to obey him.

Yuuri stared a moment longer, but Victor’s face had already dropped to a pout and Yuuri was weak to the man’s expression. He gave a loud unimpressed huff before moving to the kitchen to obey. Victor didn’t move the entire time from the couch, soft snores emitting around the small apartment.

The second time Victor forgot about their date Yuuri worried he’d come down with something. It wasn’t until later he realized the Russian had somehow managed to get himself _drunk_. The memory still left a bitter aftertaste in Yuuri’s mouth- especially considering Victor had denied it when Yuuri asked.

“ _I’m not drunk_ ,” he’d promised pawing at Yuuri’s chest- words slurred and breath hot from alcohol, “ _I’m not. I would never- Yuuri you believe me don’t you? Please tell me you do. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t._ ”

Yuuri hadn’t, of course. He was completely oblivious. He could see the signs, smell the booze. It practically clung off of Victor’s aroma like an illness.

“ _Sure Victor_ ,” he’d said instead shoving him back against the bed, “ _I believe you._ ”

Except he hadn’t then. He’d lied, will probably lie again tonight because Victor was once again drunk and Yuuri didn’t understand. It wasn’t a nightly thing- only whenever they had a date. It was like Victor was finding excuses to dodge alone time with him.

“Yuuri,” Victor hiccupped from the couch sounding miserable, “I don’t feel so good.”

 _Good_ , Yuuri thought with surprising amount of spite, _maybe you’ll learn to stop drinking so much._ But he knew Victor wouldn’t learn because Victor never learns, and he’ll do it again and again and again and Yuuri will forgive him each time.

Yuuri didn’t want to forgive him.

He wanted to punch him.

But then Victor would probably play victim and people would start staring at Yuuri like an abusive lover and they’d get so angry. They’d probably call him names too, tell him how Victor deserved better and would probably leave him.

“Would you like some water?” Yuuri asked pushing his thoughts away because they were ridiculous- Victor chased him all the way to Japan and people who did that just didn’t suddenly up and leave a year later.

“I- I feel hot,” Victor said instead as he withered his body around on the couch, “I feel like I’m melting.”

 _Victor was always so dramatic when it came to alcohol_ , Yuuri figured fixing his fiancé a glass of tap water anyways, _or just in general._

When he went to hand it to the older man, though, Victor just shook his head as he continued to pant. Yuuri huffed his frustration, unsure how someone could be so obnoxiously annoying when he set the cup on the table before moving back to the kitchen.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whined at his absence, “Yuuri please. I- I need you. Yuuri _please_.”

Yuuri shook his head, ignoring Victor as he moved around the kitchen. He was in the middle of boiling water for the rice when his phone chimed at him.

It was Phichit asking if he was available, that he was in Russia and missed him and would love to catch up. Yuuri took one glance at Victor- flushed and arched and practically sick with alcohol- and he’d responded that he’d meet him at eight after he fed and clothed and put Victor to bed.

Phichit responded with a teasing text on how Yuuri acted more like Victor’s parent than lover.

Yuuri didn’t reply.

 

  * Yakov | Now •



Yuuri fidgeted for what’s felt like the millionth time in the past hour. Yakov tried not to glare- to snap at him to stop because _it was distracting and he was trying to drive dammit_ \- because he knew the man was practically sick with worry.

His skin had gone ashen and dark shadows casted under his eyes from where he hadn’t slept in what was probably days- when Victor first disappeared out of their lives. Dark hair was unkempt and if Yakov ever questioned the man’s feelings for Victor he held no doubts now.

Yuuri was about as lost without Victor as Victor was without him.

Except Victor was still missing and the phone call still left a sour taste in Yakov’s mouth- especially considering every attempt at calling him back resulted in the same annoying message as when Victor first went missing.

_We’re sorry. The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable._

“Turn here,” Yuuri suddenly said, head still bowed and eyes glued to the screen of Yakov’s phone from where he managed to locate where Victor had called him, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when Victor had told him in the middle of nowhere, and the uneven forest ground had forced Yakov to slow his car to a crawl.

And it was cold, the thermometer in Yakov’s car indicating that it was well below freezing and if Victor had spent all night out here by himself then it was a miracle he hadn’t frozen to death. That it’d be a miracle if they didn’t stumble upon his cold corpse…

“Stop!” Yuuri’s voice shouted and Yakov slammed on his brakes hard enough that Yuri in the backseat slammed against the back of Yakov’s seat.

“Oye!” the youth shouted but Yuuri was already scrambling out the door, Yakov not far behind because Victor wouldn’t forgive him if Yakov managed to get his fiancé lost while they were out looking for him.

“What has gotten into your fool head?” Yakov demanded as he chased Yuuri through the clumped trees before dark turned to light and they were stumbling out in an abandoned field.

Yuuri stood several feet away, Yakov’s phone clasped in one hand as his eyes scanned their surroundings. He was panting, cheeks red from exertion, and his breathe left him in small white wisps. Victor would’ve probably called him beautiful, but all Yakov saw was a desperate man trying to locate what he’d lost.

“He isn’t- this isn’t- I don’t understand,” Yuuri murmured bringing the phone back up to his face, “This says he’s right over there.”

Yakov glanced to where Yuuri had pointed, finding nothing. His own heart dropped at the prospect of losing Victor a second time when they’d been _so close_.

“What’s wrong with you?” Yuri’s sudden peeved voice demanded capturing both their attentions as the blonde finally caught up to them, “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to just run off on our own in situations like these.”

He stopped, blinking at something on Yuuri’s face. Yakov turned, surprised to find tears rolling down the skater’s cheeks. Large ugly things that made him look impossibly more lost and vulnerable then he already had.

“Where is he?” Yuuri demanded and though his face looked wrecked his eyes indicated his fury, “You said he’d be here. Well, I don’t see him. Where is he? Where’s Victor?”

Yakov blinked, reeling back from the fury directed at him. It wasn’t that he’d ever considered Yuuri a pushover, but meek had certainly crossed his mind from time to time. He wasn’t one who angered easily, that fact alone probably the only reason Yakov had taken his side when Victor tried telling them something wasn’t right. That he hadn’t felt normal.

They hadn’t listened.

They should’ve listened.

“Whoa. Calm down Katsudon,” dutiful Yuri tried sounding surprised and unsure as he slipped in front of Yakov and took the full brunt of Yuuri’s fury.

 _It must’ve been building up the past few days_ , Yakov realized and it was like he could see the teenager’s words snap something deep within Yuuri’s soulful brown eyes.

“ _Calm down_? You want me to calm down?” Yuuri shouted as his body shook with barely suppressed rage, “How do you expect me to calm down when Victor is out here somewhere probably freezing and terrified, and no one will tell me anything except he should be _here_ which he’s _not_?”

Yuri frowned, stepping back as if he could protect Yakov that way. Yakov knew he didn’t deserve his student’s protection- not when Yakov had lost Victor twice now and it didn’t hurt any less the second time.

Yuri shook his blonde head as he tried, “If he’s been here all night then he couldn’t have gotten far. We just-”

Yuuri had already turned away, renewed by the chance of finding Victor. Yakov was already shaking his head because he knew that it was unlikely. Victor hadn’t been out here by himself.

Neither one of them saw him, though, and soon they were moving across the field calling Victor’s name. It echoed around them, swallowed by the nothingness surrounding them. It was creepy and it sent chills crawling down Yakov’s spine.

Victor had been here. Victor had woken up here thinking he was eighteen again in a jacket he didn’t recognize, and Yakov hadn’t been able to do _anything_.

“Over here!” Yuri shouted and was nearly overcome as Yuuri pounced on him, hands pawing at the phone grasped in Yuri’s hand.

“It’s Victor’s,” Yuuri explained as Yakov hurried to where they were and Yuuri’s head snapped up as he glanced around and added breathless with his anger, “He was here. He’d been right here. We were too slow. _Dammit_.”

And it was a bad day if Yuuri cursed.

He was usually painfully polite- smiling and gentle and patient. Victor had awoken something in him- the same thing in all of them- and now they were feeling his absence and it _hurt_.

“It’s getting dark,” Yakov grunted as he watched the Japanese man in case he tried doing something rash or stupid again, “We need to head back to the car.”

“No!” Yuuri shouted voice tight with emotion and he was glaring again, “Victor’s here somewhere. I’m not leaving him. I won’t. You can’t make me.”

Even Yuri- who always has a comment to everything- looked shocked. He blinked, head tilted to the side as Yuuri spun back around to take off shouting Victor’s name once more. Yuri looked like he was going to chase him but Yakov grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No. Go back to the car,” Yakov commanded before rushing after Yuuri; he didn’t turn to see if Yuri obeyed though by his lack of presence he figured he must have.

He caught Yuuri before he reached the edge of the forest, jerking on his arm and forcing him backwards. Yuuri flailed wildly, crying out as tears streamed down his face.

“No! Victor! Victor where are you? Answer me, _damn_ _you_!” Yuuri shouted scrambling to his feet and lurching towards the forest; Yakov caught his middle and held him tight despite the way Yuuri squirmed and clawed and begged to be released.

“He’s here Yakov! I can feel him! He’s not dead!” Yuuri continued to scream and his body was withering in Yakov’s hold and it was the closest thing to an emotion he’s shown since Victor’s disappearance, “I’d know if he’s dead! He’s here! He’s here! Let me go! _Victor_! Answer me! I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry! I’m sorry so, _please_ , come back to me! I’ll listen, I swear I will.”

His voice choked off at the end and Yakov felt his heart shatter because Victor being obnoxiously there one moment and suddenly not the next hit them all more then they’d thought it would. It wasn’t that they hadn’t appreciate his presence before, they just hadn’t realized how important it was to them until it was gone.

“He’s not here Yuuri,” Yakov grunted, “and we’ll freeze if we stay any longer. Come on now. We need to head back to the car.”

“ _No_!” Yuuri cried managing to break free from Yakov’s hold and darting forward as he cried once more, “Victor! I know you’re here! _Victor!_ ”

“Stop!” Yakov grunted managing to grab onto Yuuri once more, “Yuuri, don’t be a fool! You’ll die!”

Yuuri opened his mouth- probably to argue, but what came out was a choked sob- so he shook his head instead. He looked broken, and Yakov hated how he let it get this bad. He should’ve known- would’ve if the situations had been reversed and he had to deal with Victor not Yuuri.

“I’m dead without him Yakov,” Yuuri murmured wrapping his arms around the older Russian and squeezing, “Please, you must understand. I feel so empty without him.”

“I know,” Yakov promised, voice gentle and kind as he squeezed the younger man’s back supportingly, “I know.”

The words felt nice, and it had always secretly pleased Yakov that Victor managed to find someone who was in so overwhelming amounts of love with him when it could’ve easily been some no-good entranced only by his looks because Victor was beautiful, and he wasn’t the type to notice it himself.

He just had the phone call still buzzing through his system, and a small part of him was afraid the Victor waiting for them would be that child with long silver hair and blue eyes that sparkled in whatever he was doing. Passion that flowed through him like water that contrasted so nicely to Yuri’s flame or Yuuri’s grounded mind.

That was ridiculous, though, because people suddenly de-aging wasn’t actually a thing. It was a thing of fiction, and Victor was just confused, which meant Yuuri needed to calm down or he might freak Victor out even more.

“We’ll return tomorrow,” Yakov promised knowing he needed to be sensible because he was in charge of other people and couldn’t afford to lose his sense, “Come on. The temperature is dropping. We need to leave.”

Yuuri glanced at the trees like they were calling him. They probably were if Yuuri’s erratic behavior since Victor’s disappearance was anything to go by, but he allowed himself to move with Yakov. At that Yakov felt a knot unwind inside his chest.

“ _Yakov! Yuuri!_ ” a voice shouted and Yakov felt something cold creep back into his bones- a cold that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the amount of distress filtered into that tone.

Yuuri must have felt it too.

He lurched out of Yakov’s arms and started in the direction they’d come as he cried back, “Yuri! Yuri! Yuri!”

Yuri didn’t respond, and Yakov felt the air beat against his face as he hurried across the clearing. Yuuri, who was in considerably better shape, had made it to the car first. It looked like it had when they left minus the angry blonde head that was _supposed_ to be there.

Yakov’s heart pounded against his chest as fear crept up his spine.

“Yuri!” Yuuri called as he spun back around, brown eyes wide and searching as he hurried back out into the field, “Yuri! Answer me! Yuri!”

“ _You don’t belong here_ ,” a voice sang and Yakov watched Yuuri freeze, “ _You couldn’t protect him. You don’t belong here._ ”

Yuuri’s face hardened in rare anger as he snapped, “Who are you? Show yourselves!”

They heard giggling instead, echoing around inside the trees. It made Yakov uneasy, but the thought of whoever it was taking Victor _and_ Yuri made him _furious_.

“Where are they?” he snapped sounding tired and old and manic, “What have you done with them?”

“ _You’ll never know. He is ours now. You failed him, and now he belongs to us,_ ” the voice in the trees seemed to mock and a glance over his shoulder revealed Yuuri was as helplessly lost as he was.

“Who?” Yuuri demanded though he sounded unsure- like he didn’t want to know the answer.

Yakov figured he probably didn’t.

Not when they were answered by screaming.

 

  * Yuuri | Then •



Victor made them late to practice the next day. Yuuri tried to understand, but his fiancé kept insisting alcohol wasn’t involved and that he wasn’t hungover and that he just felt really hot and wasn’t sure why. Yuuri tested him for a fever and when he found him without one asked if anything hurt.

“ _No_ ,” Victor had responded in a dangerously serious tone as quivering hands gripped the front of Yuuri’s shirt, “ _No. Yuuri. Listen to me. I’m not drunk. I’m not sick. I’m_ hot _. Why am I so hot? Please, Yuuri. Do you believe me?_ ”

Yuuri had just nodded though he hadn’t really. Victor must have picked up on that because he refused to release Yuuri’s arm as large blue eyes stared up at him. They were bright and shiny and if Yuuri squinted he could’ve sworn he saw himself reflected in them, but that was impossible.

“ _Don’t leave me_ ,” Victor begged pathetically, “ _I don’t want to be alone. I’m hot. Please help me Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri didn’t shake Victor’s hand off him as he gave a low sigh and settled beside his fiancé. Victor immediately curled into his side like a needy child. Yuuri had tried not to think about it too hard as he stroked silver strands gently.

“ _Yuuri. Yuuri. Yuuri_ ,” Victor chanted, pressing his face into Yuuri’s thigh before moving away- withering restlessly.

“Go to sleep Victor,” Yuuri commanded him trying not to think how this wasn’t the first time Victor had pulled something like this within the last couple of weeks.

“ _We have practice_ ,” Victor had protested but Yuuri didn’t reply.

If Victor was sick- really sick and not pretending so they can stay in- then Yuuri wasn’t going to let him leave the apartment. He just wished it wasn’t so difficult to be able to differentiate whenever Victor was really sick and when he was faking.

So he didn’t say anything because there was nothing he could say. At one time he may have been foolish enough to calm something as bold as ‘ _Yakov will understand_ ’ or ‘ _Victor Nikiforov is able to miss one day_ ’ but that had been before Victor would be walking and laughing like everything was fine and then almost instant succumbing to a mysterious illness only Victor could feel.

After the first time- after Victor swore that he wasn’t drunk or making any of it up- Yuuri had taken him to the hospital. The doctors hadn’t found anything wrong with him, had suggested Victor was hungover or faking. Yuuri had gotten angry after the incident, but then they kept happening and now Yuuri wasn’t so sure.

So Yuuri didn’t reply to Victor. He just sat there, fingers tangled in silver hair as he wondered what was going on with Victor and why it kept happening.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whined lowly in the back of his throat, “ _Yuuri. We have to- you have- we can’t skip practice._ ”

“Go back to sleep Victor,” Yuuri commanded without looking at the large blue pools he knew were staring up at him, “We’ll discuss this more when you wake up.”

Victor whined, opened his mouth like he was going to protest but the only sound that had come out was soft snores. Yuuri had waited several minutes before he slipped out and busied himself cleaning the apartment.

Several hours later Victor emerged with tussled hair and the groggy confusion that came with too many hours of sleep. He hadn’t been complaining that he was hot, so Yuuri figured that whatever had been ailing him was gone now.

Yuuri turned away, “How are you feeling?”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Victor asked instead, “We’re late for practice.”

Yuuri refused to look as he continued wiping the last remaining dishes as he explained calmly, “You weren’t feeling well. I was hoping a couple hours of sleep would do you good.”

Hands found his hips as Victor pressed a loving kiss against Yuuri’s neck as Victor purred, “You were worried about me.”

Worried wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t the first time Victor had acted in such a way and like all the other times Victor was fine after sleeping. Confused and disoriented but fine.

Yuuri bent his neck, allowing Victor’s mouth to wander as he replied lowly, “We should hurry to practice.”

Yuuri could feel Victor’s grin- broad and dirty- against his skin as Victor murmured softly, “Why? Yakov will already be angry.”

Yuuri spun so they were facing each other and like every time Victor mysteriously became ill whenever he woke up he always acted like _this_. At first Yuuri had been happy to comply but slowly that voice in the back of his head started chirping in wondering if Victor wasn’t playing him to take advantage of his concern.

So Yuuri pushed lightly against Victor’s chest as he replied lowly, “We shouldn’t test him more than we already have.”

When Yuuri turned to leave Victor swept him upwards until he was sitting on the kitchen counter. Yuuri huffed, annoyed, but Victor didn’t seem to notice as he pressed forward for a kiss.

“Victor no,” Yuuri barked, hands pushing against his fiancé’s chest now, “We need to leave. Go get dressed.”

Victor’s face fell into a pout as he whined, “But Yuuri. Don’t you want to ensure that I’m healthy first?”

He bent forward for another kiss but Yuuri caught his mouth with his hand before he ground out irritatedly, “I say you’re fine. Go. Get dressed. I’m leaving in five minutes- with or without you.”

That was the end of that.

It was Yuuri’s first mistake.

 

  * Victor | Now •



Victor woke naked.

That didn’t concern him as much as he knew it should’ve. At least he was warm this time, wrapped in something heavy and furry. It was also dark and seemed to play with the light emitted from the fire across the room.

“Hello?” he called after he realized he was alone in what appeared to be a living room.

No one replied.

Swinging his legs over the side of what he was certain to be the couch, he wrapped his slender frame with the fur blanket that he had been covered with. The living room was dark and he couldn’t find any source of light except the fireplace so he decided not to wander too far.

The blanket over his shoulders made moving awkward, but he was quick to adjust. The room was modest in size so it shouldn’t have taken long for him to explore, but he found that the wall by the fireplace was a bookshelf filled with books.

Curious Victor reached out, slender fingers trailing along the ancient looking spines. Most of them were plain, titles written in languages Victor did not know. Others were more artful, reminding Victor of the fairy tales he’d read as a child. He found only one in English- the only language he was able to recognize amongst the titles.

Without much thought he pulled it free, nestling it in his arms tenderly. It was thick and large, the cover a rustic brown color. The pages were made of parchment, intricately woven to the book’s spine, with fancy cursive lines decorating each page. It looked like it belonged in a museum.

He sat down in the brown chair beside the fireplace, curling skinny legs underneath him before propping the book against his knees. Long fingers flipped amongst the pages, his eyes absorbing the words and occasional picture until he stopped on a page with a black and white drawing of the clearing he’d woken up in- only this time eyes could clearly be seen residing under the cover of the trees.

His fingers scratched at the drawing as he absorbed as much detail as he was able. It was beautifully done, sending a chill down Victor’s spine. Something about the eyes gave the clearing a sinister feel- the same one Victor remembered feeling but had brushed off as being cold.

The words wasn’t much help. Victor could only assume they were names as they seemed foreign despite being written in English. He didn’t, of course, get long to ponder this as the next moment the door on the far end of the room was thrown open carelessly and the man from the clearing stepped inside.

From where Victor sat, warm and small underneath the fur blanket, the man appeared impossibly large and wide. Black strands dangled around his head giving him a crazed look, but it was the small form thrown over his shoulder that drew Victor’s attention.

“Oh my God,” Victor gasped and dark eyes found him.

“You should be sleeping,” the man grunted as he stepped further into the room, dropping the limp form on the couch Victor had previously occupied.

Victor sank into the chair, finding little comfort in the blanket. He was suddenly all too aware by how naked and exposed he was, yet his eyes kept falling on the pale figure on the couch.

He was young- younger than Victor- with tousled blonde hair and thin wrists. _A child_ , Victor realized with increasing worry, _No more than sixteen._

“Is he alright?” Victor inquired shifting the book in his lap, where dark eyes found it seconds later.

“You shouldn’t have this,” the man snarled crossing the room in three steps and snatching the delicate object from Victor’s lap, “It’s _dangerous_.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor forced out even as the man turned to force the book back where Victor had found it, “The kid. Is he alright? Do you know him?”

“I do not,” the man replied without turning to face him, lumbering back across the room before disappearing behind one of the walls; Victor could hear his boots retreating down the hall.

Victor waited a moment before he moved over to where the kid laid. His face was dirty and hair tangled and it made him look impossibly young and familiar. Victor reached out on instinct, grasping thin fingers with his own. His skin was cold.

At Victor’s touch, the kid’s eyelids fluttered before bright green eyes stared up at him. They looked momentarily confused before some sort of recognition filtered in, and Victor hadn’t anticipated the punch to the side of his face until it happened.

“What is wrong with you?” Victor snapped, cradling the cheek the glaring kid had struck.

The kid reached out and grasped the corners of Victor’s blanket as he demanded, “What the hell is wrong with _you_ , stupid Victor? And what’s with your face and hair?”

Victor blinked, confused, and it took him a moment before he was able to pull himself together and ask dumbly, “Do I know you?”

The kid blinked before frowning and demanded, “Did you knock your head and lose what little brain cells you had left? It’s me. Yuri.”

The name did stir something inside Victor, but the mounting want and lust didn’t feel appropriate directed towards someone so young. He swallowed thickly, disgusted with himself. Only when he retreated backwards he lost the blanket.

Yuri’s mouth went slack, cover slipping from his fingers. Victor quickly pulled it back to himself, covering himself with it once more.

“I’m sorry,” Victor rushed to apologize because now he looked as much as the pervert he felt, “I didn’t- I don’t-”

Only Yuri’s eyes went dark with anger as he reached back out to grasp onto Victor as he demanded, “How did this happen? Who did this? I’ll kill them.”

The fact that the anger was directed _for_ Victor opposed to _against_ him surprised him enough to render him speechless. He just stared at the teen, wondering what they were before Victor woke up in the clearing. Instinctively he curled the blanket tighter around himself.

“Yuri, how do we know each other?” Victor finally asked, not giving the teen a chance to leave the couch because he looked small and impossibly fragile and Victor just wanted to _protect_ him.

“Are you kidding?” Yuri demanded before reaching out and yanking on Victor’s hair, “We both skated for Russia before you ran off to be with your Japanese lover.”

“My Japanese what?” Victor demanded, blinking confusedly because that sounded scandalous, “Yakov-”

“Is worried about you because you just suddenly fell off the face of the earth,” Yuri snarled, fingers tangling themselves amongst Victor’s hair as he kept yanking and pulling obnoxiously, “What happened to you? What’s all this? Why don’t you remember anything?”

“Ow! I don’t know. Stop yanking on that!” Victor snapped though his voice sounded angrier than it should’ve.

Yuri released him compliantly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Victor smoothed the strains down with his hands as he tried cooling his temper. _Prime and proper_ , Lilia’s voice chided in his skull, _don’t let your emotions overcome you. You must always be perfect._

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Victor apologized averting his gaze as he continued, “and I don’t recall you. Georgi is the only other competitor for Russia I know and, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have a very forgettable personality.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed once more before relaxing and he noted, “You look like the pictures Yakov keeps. Of before, when you were seventeen.”

“Eighteen,” Victor corrected automatically even though he hadn’t been that for very long before he grew suspicious and demanded, “What do you mean by _before_?”

Yuri regarded him but his words and tone were blunt and truthful, “It’s been a long time since you’ve been eighteen, Victor.”

Victor shook his head as he ground out reasonably, “Age regression is impossible. A work of fiction.”

“Not impossible,” the deep voice of the man who brought both of them denied and Victor spun around, puffing himself out as if to protect Yuri that way.

He wasn’t sure who the kid was or why his name made Victor feel very different things than his face did. All he knew was that he wanted to protect the kid, only he made it difficult when he slid between Victor and the man.

“Who are you? What’d you do to Victor?” Yuri growled sounding feral, shoulders hunched and entire stature poised to attack.

Victor grabbed his wrist, preventing him from lurching forward without taking Victor with him and some part of him suspected Yuri wouldn’t do that. The kid seemed oddly protective of him.

The man’s dark gaze found Victor and it was only because of Yuri’s presence that Victor didn’t shrink away. He just jerked the kid closer to his side and kept the man’s gaze. When the eyes shifted from Victor to the growling teen at Victor’s side, Victor puffed himself further as he covered the teen as much as he dared.

“I did nothing to Victor, and I am not the reason he is here,” the man explained as he stepped towards them; simultaneously they moved to protect the other and the man stilled before he added almost thoughtful, “All the others in the past never had anyone look for them.”

“Others?” Victor asked all too aware of the pulling strength residing inside Yuri, “This has happened before?”

The man’s dark gaze found him once more as the man sighed sadly, “Unfortunately.”

“Where are they now?” Yuri demanded aggressively, “I want to speak with them. I don’t _trust_ you.”

This time when the man sought out Yuri Victor forced him behind him, heedless of the way it made the cover droop from his shoulders. It didn’t matter that he was now exposed or that Yuri was making angry protesting sounds behind him. All he knew was that Yuri- whoever he was- was someone Victor wished to protect. The man just gave a low chuckle, almost amused.

“Trust is but an illusion,” the man said but Yuri growled deep in the back of his throat so he added, “They’re dead.”

Victor was more surprised that the confession didn’t shock him. He’d seen the picture in the book, had felt those eyes on him in the clearing. Yuri hadn’t been so lucky. He gave a low whine in the back of his throat, skin paler than before.

“Did the eyes in the clearing kill them?” Victor asked, surprisingly calm.

The man snarled but didn’t reply. His face was dark and when they resided on Victor longer than before Yuri gave an impressive snarl of his own, escaping Victor’s hold.

“Don’t _look_ at him,” Yuri growled, “Why’d you take his clothes?”

It was the first time Victor realized the blanket had fallen completely from his shoulders. Suddenly self-conscious Victor wrapped the blanket back around him before reeling Yuri back to him. He was loathe to allow the boy to part too far from him.

“I did not,” the man reassured, “The ones before you were naked as well. I do not know why.”

“Slower target,” Victor murmured keeping his hold on Yuri, “It’s harder to run away while you’re freezing and vulnerable.”

Yuri spun on his heel, shoving against Victor’s chest suddenly. It caught Victor off guard, and he tumbled backwards onto the couch. His blanket started to drop but Yuri was quick to catch it, wrapping it tightly back around his shoulders.

“Your jacket is by the door but it seemed quite big. You are very skinny so finding you something will be difficult, but I found some of my wife’s old clothes,” the man explained and Yuri spun back around to glower at him.

It was sweet and Victor appreciated how protective Yuri was being of him. He just wasn’t sure he deserved it.

“Come sit beside me Yuri,” Victor said instead, too selfish to correct Yuri in case the kid realized Victor wasn’t worth protecting.

Yuri surprisingly obliged, shoulders still tense and hunched- a sentinel on guard. Victor wrapped his shoulders with the blanket, taking care not to expose himself too much in the process. Yuri’s eyes were dark, but he didn’t protest as he shuffled closer to Victor.

“I left a suitable outfit on the bed in the backroom,” the man continued as if the conversation before him never happened, “I will return within the hour.”

That caught Victor off-guard.

“You’re leaving again?” Victor asked curiously, moving to rise back up but Yuri was quick to jerk him back to his side.

“The friends you brought have not left yet,” the man explained obviously, “They are quite concerned. I will be back.”

Yuri’s hand didn’t leave Victor’s bicep as he threatened, “You hurt either one of them and I’ll break your knees.”

The man’s eyes never left Victor. They remained dark and almost resentful, and they reminded Victor of the eyes in the picture. Then he turned away and Victor’s body remembered how to breathe. Yuri’s hand was an odd comfort considering he’d seen how vitriol the boy could be.

Finally the man broke the silence, “Do not leave this house, and _do not_ touch anything.”

Then he was gone, the sound of the wind howling outside calling out his departure. Yuri waited five whole minutes before he was back on his feet, pulling Victor with him and wrapping his shoulders with the blanket.

“As much as I appreciate you protecting my virtue I don’t think this is necessary,” Victor replied surprisingly gentle and fond for someone he hadn’t known for over thirty minutes, unless he was to believe that he’d somehow been regressed back to eighteen.

Yuri’s cheeks burned red as he snarled aggressively, “Shut up. Yakov and Yuuri would kill me if I allowed anything to happen to you. Now come on, I’m not sure Yuuri would be able to control himself if he saw you naked, and I don’t feel like breaking his skull after the last couple of days he’s had.”

“This other Yuuri?” Victor asked as he trailed behind the teenager, “How do people differentiate between the two of you in conversation?”

Yuri’s ears turned pink as he practically snarled, “Shut up.”

Victor let out an airy laugh, and it felt nice. Then they found the room the man had been speaking of and Yuri took one glance at the long purple shirt and emitted a low angry growl.

“Aw _hell_ no,” Yuri snarled even as Victor started dressing, surprised by just how feminine the clothes were- highlighting his curves.

Victor combed at his hair with his fingers as he turned and asked as innocently as he could, “Do I look pretty, my sweet Yuri?”

“You look like a damn woman, and I’m not _your_ Yuri,” Yuri snapped angrily, and Victor found himself smiling fondly.

“You have a big strong man waiting for you?” Victor inquired innocently surprised by the sour surge of protectiveness that swelled inside him, “Does he have a name?”

“Considering you look like you want to rip his throat out, no, you don’t get a name,” Yuri denied and Victor dropped his face into a pout, “You do like him though. Or, at the very least, the other you does.”

That was enough for the moment so Victor straightened as he changed the subject, “So this other Yuuri, what do you think of him?”

Yuri frowned like he wasn’t sure what Victor was asking. If Victor was honest he’d realize he wasn’t sure himself.

Finally Yuri reassured, “You’re his whole world.”

The words brought a warm happy feeling to bubble inside of Victor’s stomach. He felt the idiot grin spreading across his face even though he couldn’t recall a face. It was nice knowing that he managed to find someone out there for him.

Yuri’s eyes were narrowed as he was staring at him intently. Victor felt his face flush, swallowing back the feeling that he was thinking of another person’s lover. In many ways he knew he was- whoever this Victor Yuuri feel in love with he was certain wasn’t him.

“Did I love him?” Victor found himself asking, suddenly afraid of the answer; he didn’t want to hear that Yuuri deserved someone better than him even though some small part of him knew it to be true.

“You two are gross together,” Yuri reassured, “He makes you very happy.”

The grin returned, bringing a blush with it this time. He liked the thought that Yuri brought to him, and he hoped that it wasn’t an illusion.

“Anyways you can’t be wearing that when Yuuri shows up. He’ll jump you the moment he catches sight of you,” Yuri denied and Victor frowned even though he could feel his cheeks burning.

“You want me to go back to being naked?” Victor inquired mischievously and the look Yuri gave him was biting and dangerous and Victor wondered if older him ever fretted over what Yuri wore as much as the kid currently was about him.

“ _I_ don’t have a fiancé that sexually depraved himself because he thought you were plotting to jump him,” Yuri corrected as if he could read Victor’s mind, “The day you disappeared was the day I swore his ended, but you look too succulent. He doesn’t need any more temptation. Here, trade with me.”

Yuri threw his shirt at him- a white T-shirt with a tabby cat in sunglasses decorating the front- before handing his black jacket with it. Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to part with the flowing purple shirt the man had given him, unsure if Yuri was aware of how feminine his own figure made him appear.

Victor _was_ sure he’d have to talk with the kid about fashion later as he traded clothes. The shirt was a little tight but not in a way that made him look anything close to sexy. Instead it made him appear impossibly young.

“That’s better,” Yuri approved, the wind beating against the roof and walls now; Victor frowned at the sound.

“Do you recall it storming when he brought you in?” Victor asked, yearning for a window.

“No,” Yuri denied as he tilted his head, “but it was getting dark and they were calling for storms. Yakov and Yuuri probably got all sorts of turned around.”

“Well you’re here so I hope they didn’t leave you,” Victor noted, not sure he would be able to forgive the man he supposedly loved or the one who’d practically raised him if they’d abandoned Yuri by himself.

“Relax. Yuuri wasn’t about to leave you behind,” Yuri reassured lightly, “I’ve never seen him get angry before- not until you disappeared. It was impressive.”

Victor smiled shyly as he noted, “He sounds like a keeper, but he’s not mine. Whoever you think I am, it’s not me. I’m not really relationship material.”

“No,” Yuri denied almost angry, “ _I’m_ not relationship material, and you’ll have to believe me when I tell you that no one is more worthy of him then you are.”

Sweet words but Victor knew better. He suspected Yakov did as well, but until he got the chance to speak with the man he won’t know for certain.

Somewhere in the direction they came from they heard the door clang open noiselessly. It banged against the wall as a sudden gust of wind blew the fire out. Victor gave the doorway to the hall a glance, stomach sinking at the implication.

“We’re not safe here,” Victor hissed out in the sudden darkness as he moved to grasp onto Yuri’s wrist and jerk him behind him.

They made it out to the hall when the low growling began. Deep and throaty and nothing like the man that had brought them. Shadows seemed to dance along in the darkness, trailing after them as the temperature dropped drastically.

The hall ended and Victor drug Yuri into what appeared to be the man’s room. It was cluttered with clothes and sparkling metal objects. Victor ignored all of that as he drug Yuri to other side of the room, trying not to think of the way the wood seemed to creak behind them or how he could hear scraping in the hallway.

( _You’re not yet finished, Victor_ )

Victor forced Yuri to the ground, wedged between the bed and the door before he settled beside him. He wasn’t sure why he brought them there or what he was going to do if that thing opened the door. Yuri’s hand gripped at his sleeve, eyes white with fear.

Victor wasn’t afraid. He didn’t think he could afford to be, not when he had someone he needed to protect. He settled his hand over Yuri’s, smiling bravely at him amongst the darkness.

( _You belong to us, Victor_ )

“Victor?” Yuri asked, sounding confused and he reached out to touch the side of his arm; the thing on the other side of the door must’ve heard him as it snorted and groaned.

The door opened.

 

  * Yuuri | Then •



Yuuri’s second mistake came after practice.

Victor had seemed to remember that he’s cancelled the last couple of dates because he hadn’t taken them home. He’d lead Yuuri along the Russian streets, arms linked. Yuuri smiled, relieved that Victor wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t pick up on when he’d upset Yuuri.

Yuuri had mentioned it- once- to Yuri. He’d asked the teen if he thought Victor and him belonged together. He hadn’t meant for it to be such a big deal, was more than willing to chalk it up to his insecurities.

He’d just never expected for Yuri to get so righteously angry, and it was the first time Yuuri was able to appreciate just how much Victor meant to the teen.

“ _Victor spent the majority of his life alone. You can’t expect the perfect husband doting on your every need_ ,” Yuri had snapped surprisingly biting, “ _You’re a grown up. Quit with the neglected toddler routine._ ”

Yuuri had been angry afterwards. Victor had come down with his mysterious illness so he hadn’t had long to ponder his own feelings- not when he’d spent the majority of that night in the hospital- and it wasn’t later until he realized it was Yuri giving them his blessing.

Before Victor was Yuuri’s he was the worlds. Before Victor convinced Yuuri that he was love in with him, he was the closest thing to a positive role model in Yuri’s life. Those things weren’t things people just shrugged off.

Yuuri had known that, but he’d never really thought about it. Victor loved him, and that had been all that mattered. Then Victor started getting sick more and more frequently and he’d become increasingly more forgetful but his recovery was almost always instant.

“I’m going to treat you to whatever you desire,” Victor promised, nose red from what Yuuri had thought to be the cold; blue eyes twinkled like priceless gems and it wasn’t the first time Yuuri was overcome by the realization at just how overwhelming beautiful the man was.

Yuuri rose up on his toes, planting a kiss to Victor’s cheek before he declared, “I want ice cream.”

Victor smiled, fond, as he followed the kiss with one of his own. Yuuri felt his lips become captured suddenly, and his fingers tangled amongst silver strands as strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist.

Yuuri wasn’t the first to pull away. Victor suddenly broke the kiss, pressing his nose against Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri could feel the way his hands were shaking, and his concern started to bubble despite the newest treacherous voice telling him that Victor _always_ did this.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked, taking Victor’s hands in his own.

Victor’s smile was obviously forced as his eyes twinkled with pain only Victor could feel as he reassured, “I’m fine, Yuuri. Ice cream?”

Yuuri smiled, nodded, remembering why he’d fallen in love with the man- and sometime after the Grand Prix Yuri had cornered him and confronted him about what had happened at the last year’s banquet. Told him how Victor had fallen in love almost instantly and remained that way for a whole year.

Victor wrapped his hand in Yuuri’s, fingers squeezing in a way that suggested it had nothing to do with Yuuri and everything to do with Victor. Yuuri didn’t bother bringing it up, allowing Victor to lead him through his hometown.

Victor took him to a small diner that looked something straight out of an old movie. It was one of Yuuri’s favorite places in all of Russia, and Victor took every opportunity to take him there.

“You’re such a dork Victor,” Yuuri informed him as he wrapped Victor’s arm around his shoulders and stared up at his face.

Victor’s cheeks were a bright red color and his eyes were glossed over with a fever Yuuri couldn’t feel. It was the same look Victor got right before he succumbed to whatever was ailing him and only him. Yuuri felt the concern bubble up in his stomach.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked, watching Victor blink sluggishly.

“Yuuri,” Victor muttered, his voice coming off as a low preening whine and Yuuri knew what was going to happen next before it did, “I’m hot.”

Yuuri reached out but he couldn’t feel any additional warmth against Victor’s skin. If anything, it was slightly colder than normal because of the snow.

Yuuri felt a small pang of disappointment envelop inside his chest as he found himself ask, “Do you want to go home?”

_Please say no. Say you’re fine. I can’t deal with you being fine in thirty minutes from now if you make me leave before we get started. You’re not even hot. Please, please, please._

Victor swallowed, nodded, and whispered, “I think that’s for the best.”

Yuuri allowed Victor’s arm to fall from his shoulders as he lead him back to the apartment. Victor almost instantly collapsed on the couch demanding for Yuuri to fetch him something to drink. Yuuri obliged because he always did, but that voice returned reminding him that Victor’s never had two of whatever this was in a single day.

 _Except today, apparently_ , Yuuri thought with only slight bitterness.

Makkachin was curled up at Victor’s feet, whining softly in the back of his throat. Victor ignored him, and he ignored Yuuri when he pressed the glass of water against his arm.

Victor jerked, swatting blindly at Yuuri. He knocked the glass out of his hand, spilling the water everywhere. Yuuri blinked in shock because Victor was moving next, screaming at him for being clumsy.

Yuuri stared back, eyes wide at the sudden reaction from Victor.

“ _Quit_ looking at me like that,” Victor shouted aggressively kicking Makkachin, “You always act like the whole world owes you something. You’re _not_ a victim, Yuuri!”

The words stung but Victor’s eyes were bright with something and his cheeks were flushed and Makkachin was looking concerned. Yuuri didn’t see any of that at the time, of course. All he heard was Victor’s words on repeat.

_You’re not a victim, Yuuri._

Yuuri rose to his feet, saying something about needing fresh air. He already had his phone out, texting people he knew asking if he could stay over because he had no intention of spending the night. Victor had already switched gears, apologizing and pleading Yuuri not to leave him. He loved him. Yuuri _please, please, please._

The door slammed shut behind Yuuri, solidifying his second mistake.

 

  * Yuuri | Now •



“Yuri! _Yuri!_ ” Yuuri shouted, voice cracking as he tried not to think of how the screaming had stopped awhile back.

Yakov was practically mad with panic, and it was one of the few times Yuuri’s ever seen him loose his calm completely. Yuuri felt close to losing it himself, dangling dangerously close to tumbling over the edge.

“Yuri! Answer me you foolish boy!” Yakov demanded somewhere nearby- neither one of them fond of the idea of parting considering Yuri had seemingly vanished.

“I don’t think he’s here anymore Yakov,” Yuuri finally said trying to ignore the way the words twisted around inside his chest, “Neither is Victor. And the storm is getting worst. We’ll freeze out here.”

He’s already lost feeling in his toes and fingers and his ears were burning from the cold. None of that compared to the thought of leaving Victor and Yuri out here by themselves, but Yakov looked moments from collapsing and neither Victor nor Yuri would forgive him if he didn’t properly take care of their coach.

“Yuri is out here,” Yakov snapped with a cold fury, “and I’m not leaving without him. Or Victor.”

Yuuri felt his gut twist, his mind swirling with thoughts. It was obvious neither one of them were going to last much longer, and Yakov had finally got Yuuri ready to leave when Yuri disappeared. Now he wasn’t sure he could do the same for Yakov.

 _You have to try_ , Victor’s voice informed him, _or you prove that you can’t save anyone._

“Yakov!” Yuuri shouted, pushing that voice as far back in his mind as he’s capable, “Yakov, we have to go!”

“Unfortunately you won’t be going anywhere,” a deep voice informed him from behind; Yuuri spun to find a bear of man staring down at him as he added in a deep rumble, “Neither of you.”

“Yakov!” Yuuri shouted as he spun to get as far from the stranger as he could.

A hand caught his arm, jerking him backwards. His feet kicked up snow as a cry of pain mixed with shock escaped his throat. That was what finally got the older man’s attention.

“ _Let him go!_ ” Yakov screamed and he sounded genuinely angry for Yuuri’s behalf.

The man didn’t let Yuuri go, and when Yakov charged towards them he easily captured the man’s wrist in his palm.

“We do not have long,” the man growled as he jerked them- withering and protesting- behind him, “The children are surely getting impatient. The blond had a mouth.”

The hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck tingled at the mention of a mouthy blond child. Yakov must have gotten the same idea as he growled in that rare way of his, eyes shining with a promise of Russian vengeance if whatever came out of the man’s mouth next was the slightest bit wrong.

“What have you done with Yuri? If you’ve hurt a single hair on his head I’ll-” Yakov ground out like it hurt.

“I have not hurt him,” the man bit off, “He is keeping Victor company.”

Yuuri lunged- almost instinctively- at the mention of Victor. In his brain, he figured it couldn’t be _his_ Victor because his wasn’t a child though he may act like one sometimes. Victor was obviously a grown man, even if Yakov said something about him being confused when he called.

None of that mattered. The man mentioned Victor, and Yuuri saw a flash of white in the back of his mind and when it cleared he’d managed to break free and the man was struggling in retaining him once more.

“You took him! He’s mine, and you took him!” he heard himself screaming and it wasn’t until Yakov caught his arms to his chest that Yuuri felt the white hot fury that surged in his chest start to die down.

“Pull yourself together Katsuki,” Yakov barked though his eyes still held a promise of a murder.

“There is not much time left,” the man grunted out as he released his last hold on Yuuri, “I should not have left Victor by himself as long as I already have.”

“Lead the way,” Yakov commanded in a low grunt, releasing Yuuri’s arms as he added, “We’ll be right behind you.”

The man didn’t look confident at Yakov’s words but he walked off anyways. They weren’t walking for very long before the man stopped, cursing in a language Yuuri did not recognize.

Yakov set a hand against Yuuri’s bicep as he inquired as innocent as Yuuri’s ever heard the man speak, “What’s wrong?”

“They found him,” the man breathed before he was running, and he was a lot faster than his girth had lead Yuuri to believe.

“Hey! Wait up!” Yuuri shouted before taking off after him, Yakov not far behind.

The man didn’t wait, and when they arrived to a small windowless cabin he didn’t stop to evaluate before rushing inside. Yuuri caught sight of the door clanging against the inside wall, hinges screaming, and the light frost starting to coat the leather and walls and felt his heart drop.

“Yuri! Victor!” Yuuri shouted as he man clambered down the hallway to where the door at the end sat, splintered and broken.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Yuri’s small voice shouted back, and it was the fear that had Yuuri rushing to the room the man had disappeared into.

“Fool boys,” the man was chiding, the room almost thick with the ice and Yuuri was certain that was abnormal.

Not as abnormal as Victor- his Victor almost ten years ago- sprawled on the bed. His skin was pale and ice clung to silver strands of hair and he looked like a princess lost to some ridiculous curse. It made Yuuri’s chest ache.

“Impossible,” Yakov denied roughly, eyes sparkling with his denial, “Vitya hasn’t looked like that in years.”

“What happened?” the man grunted at Yuri- who was at Victor’s side, eyes white with his fear.

“I don’t know. The door opened and he just suddenly went limp,” Yuri explained with a child’s face, “His skin was cold so I panicked. Is he alright?”

The man moved away, eyes dark and ominous as he snapped out, “No.”

Yet when he reached out to grasp Victor’s face in his hands, blue eyes sprung open as he shot upright with an audible gasp. Fear was etched into every curve of Victor’s skin and Yuuri felt something primal and protective overwhelm him.

“You’re safe now,” Yuuri reassured, closing the distance and didn’t think before he’d captured Victor’s mouth with his own.

Victor made a startled noise in the back of his throat but he didn’t shove him away. He didn’t close the space between them either. He just sat there, dumbstruck. Unfortunately for Yuuri, Yuri wasn’t so pliant.

“Get offa him Katsudon,” Yuri shouted, grabbing the back of his collar and yanking him backwards; he went easily, not expecting for anybody to rip the two of them apart.

Before Victor would’ve had a fit. Now he just sat there, blue eyes wide with shock. They stared at each other before Victor seemed to gather himself, and he closed the distance eyes lidded as his fingers reached out to stroke Yuuri’s bottom lip.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor breathed huskily and not at all like the Victor Yuuri remembered, “Did you miss me Yuuri?”

Yuri reached out, clasping onto Victor’s wrist and yanking him backwards. He looked angry, though Yuuri couldn’t figure out why. It was the first time the kid ever dared to break the two of them up, and something close to anger filled inside of Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri leapt forward, arms clasping around Victor’s shoulders so they were both tumbling down on the bed. Victor grunted in surprise but was quick to lock his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. He was smiling but not in the way Yuuri was used to. It was forced and suddenly Yuuri realized why Yuri was quick to pull them apart.

“You don’t recognize me.”

The words hurt more than Yuuri thought they would. His chest ached, but Victor’s blue gaze fell to somewhere at his side. That was all the answer Yuuri needed, and he was quick to roll off the now younger male.

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Yuuri gasped feeling foolish but before Victor got a chance to speak Yuuri was pushing his way out of the room.

“Yuuri wait,” Victor protested catching him easily, “Please don’t leave. I didn’t mean for it to come off like that.”

Yuuri turned, seeing his Victor begging him to believe him. He wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t drunk. He was hot. _Please, Yuuri, you believe me don’t you?_

Yuuri cupped the side of Victor’s cheek, gentle and loving and he couldn’t figure how he’d ever turned Victor away for anything.

“I’m not leaving you Victor. I just… I need air or I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret,” Yuuri reassured, feeling his heart pulse with all the built up need he’d created.

He’d never have been so bold as to jump Victor as quick as he’d did. Victor’s love had just been so infectious, and it had been so long and- _damn it_ \- Yuuri wants to drag him in a spare bedroom and leave his mark on the pale skin. He couldn’t- though- not when Victor didn’t even know who he was.

Victor didn’t seem to have caught the hint as he stepped forward and purred seductively, “Because you sexually depraved yourself? Yuri assured me that we love each other. Show me how much you love me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri reached out so he was cradling Victor’s head, dropping it so their foreheads were pressed together and he murmured so only Victor could hear, “I’ll wait for you to remember me Victor, like you did.”

Victor gave him an odd look but didn’t protest. Yuuri pulled away and moved towards the door still banging against the wall. He escaped out into the storm where he allowed all his built up emotions free, and the tears came embarrassingly easy.

They didn’t stop, not even when Yakov came out to check on him what felt like hours later.

 

  * Yakov | Then •



Yakov still remembered the day Victor left Russia to go play trainer with the man he thought he loved. Yakov had remembered being upset- having practically raised Victor and then forced to watch him go somewhere he couldn’t follow. It had ended out fine, and Yakov thanked the stars every day that Yuuri wasn’t looking for something Victor wasn’t able to deliver.

That was why he didn’t even give it a second thought when Yuuri called him not long after practice concluded.

“Hello?” he asked, Yuri somewhere in the other room banging around; the boy had endless energy and most days Yakov cursed Lilia for volunteering him.

“Can I stay over the night?” Yuuri asked, voice distraught and Yakov could hear the tears in his voice, “Me and Victor got into a fight.”

It must have been bad if Yuuri was looking for a place to stay for the night- the first real fight the couple had. Yakov remembered his- all of them- well and he’d never admit it but he was always rooting for them.

“Of course,” Yakov nodded because, despite everything he’s said and done, he did like the Japanese man and if he needed a slight break than no one could fault him.

“Thank you,” Yuuri breathed from the other line, “You have no idea how bad I need this right now. I love Victor, I just can’t anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Yakov reassured, “I’ll set the couch for you.”

Yuuri thanked him once more before hanging up. Yakov had just managed to forget that Lilia moved all the spare covers to his back closet, where he was digging it out when he heard Yuri’s angry shouting.

“I’ll snap his stupid fingers,” Yuri was shouting when Yakov followed the voice to his living room, “I’ll rip his tongue out. _Quit playing the victim?_ What’s wrong with him?”

Yakov turned the corner, not at all surprised to find Yuuri sitting on the couch with Yuri pacing angrily in front of him. Yuuri’s cheeks were red and his eyes bloodshot from crying and it wasn’t hard to see why Yuri was upset.

He set the covers beside Yuuri, who immediately bowed his head and muttered a thanks.

Later, after Yuuri relayed what happened, Yakov fault a deep disappointment with Victor’s actions. Sick or no he didn’t have an excuse to treat someone as loyal as Yuuri the way he had. Maybe that was why, when Victor called distraught with worry asking if Yuuri was there, Yakov reassured that he was and that he was fine but Victor wasn’t to speak with him. The next day, Yuuri showed up with dark smudges under his eyes as he pleaded with Yakov.

“ _Please tell me he’s here. I- please. He didn’t come home. Please tell me he’s here. Please, please, please._ ”

Victor wasn’t, of course. Victor was gone.

 

  * Victor | Now •



Yuuri crying upset Victor more than he thought it would. It was a ridiculous notion, but Yakov always told him that a kind heart wasn’t a weakness. Victor just knew this was more than that- the pain Yuuri felt Victor felt. It was strange.

They refused to let Victor approach Yuuri though, which he didn’t understand when all they’ve done is insist they’re in love. The man just growled, glaring. Yuri didn’t say much at all but was pressed against Victor’s side on the couch- his little protector.

Yakov was the one who stayed with the other Yuuri- Victor’s Yuuri, apparently- and Victor knew the man wasn’t as cold or hardened as he liked people to believe. It was just strange to see him like he currently was, large hand firmly pressed against Yuuri’s back as dark eyes squinted at anything that dared near them.

Surprisingly, Yuuri was the first one who spoke. His eyes were red and puffy but there was iron in them, something strong and deserving of respect and Victor found that he was captivated by that.

“I think we deserve explanations,” Yuuri said, eyes on the man.

The man stared back, from his spot by the door. Victor didn’t feel any safer, and though the fire was crackling once more he still felt cold.

“You deserve nothing,” the man snarled back after a while, “You are not the one they want.”

Yuri shifted at his side- irritated and angry- as he snarled, “But they want Victor. Why?”

Dark eyes flickered over to where Yuri and Victor were sitting on their couch. Victor felt Yuri tense- always anticipating a fight. It made Victor sad, though he couldn’t say why.

“Can we get a name?” Victor inquired as sweetly as he could, hand circling around Yuri’s wrist and holding him at his side.

This time, when dark eyes settled on Victor he didn’t shrink away, and the man kept a stoic expression as he growled out a low, “Nikita.”

Victor flinched at the name- mind flashing to a woman with burning red hair and bright green eyes and empty promises that died with a single night. It was something he’d long since tried to forget- a mistake.

A voice called him back- sweet and gentle and loving, “Victor?”

Victor blinked, scrunching his face as he tried shaking the memories. He glanced over finding warm brown eyes searching. Victor had to look away, undeserving.

Nikita shifted on his feet and demanded low in the back of his throat, “You recognize the name?”

“It’s nothing,” Victor reassured kindly, “It’s just someone I once knew.”

“A _bitch_ ,” Yakov snarled suddenly and Victor blinked because Yakov is prone to anger but not like this- not the hot burning rage that consumed and wouldn’t let go.

Both the Yuris looked uncertain, so Victor found it easy to assume they were never told. It was nice thinking he was able to eventually recover from the things the woman with red hair had done to him. Perhaps Yakov hadn’t been wrong when he’d reassured it gets better with time.

Nikita just snorted before continuing, “They are messing with you. Is that why you were chosen? Is that why they want you?”

Victor shook his head because he didn’t know. How could he know?

“Of course not,” Nikita brushed off, “They take people based on who they are. Who are you Victor Nikiforov? What type of person are you?”

“What’re you insinuating?” Yuuri snapped and when Victor glanced over at him he found him on his feet, shoulders hunched and eyes burning.

Victor’s heart leapt at the protectiveness.

“I do not insinuate anything,” Nikita replied with a low rumble and his eyes never left Victor, “I only know what has happened in the past, so tell me who you are Victor Nikiforov.”

“I’m no one,” Victor said though he knew that was wrong, “I’m a skater. I skate, and I win medals because I’m good at it. I don’t know anything other than that.”

“That answers nothing,” Nikita snarled stepping forward, hand reaching out for Victor; Yuri intercepted, thin and protective and angry.

“Do _not_ touch him,” Yuri snarled lowly and Victor noticed Yuuri was on his feet as well, Yakov at his side and they both looked furious.

Nikita growled back, showing his teeth. Victor thought he may have been frightened if Yuri wasn’t in the way, wasn’t in obvious danger.

He rose, pulling Yuri so he was behind him. He heard the teen protest- sharp and still angry- but he ignored him. Unfortunately for Victor, it gave Nikita the opening he was looking for.

A hand grabbed his arm, squeezing so the flesh purpled with the beginning stages of a bruise. The hand jerked him back and a cry of surprise escaped Victor’s mouth, quickly followed by a grunt of pain. The room buzzed with protest but the world was shifting and his feet stumbled as he was drug backwards.

“ _Victor!_ ” someone called before he was tossed into a small bedroom, door slamming shut behind him.

Victor blinked, disoriented, before he glanced up at Nikita. He was angry- fury radiating off of him in waves. It was frightening and strange and Victor backpedaled until his back bumped against the bed; his heart beating wildly in his ears, in time with the banging at the door.

“Don’t hurt him!” Yuuri- _Victor’s_ Yuuri- shouted, “Victor, answer me baby! Please answer me! Don’t hurt him! He’s not what you think! Please, please, please!”

“Why does someone like you have people who care for you so much?” Nikita demanded closing the distance between them.

He crouched down, trapping Victor. Victor shrank back seeing hands reach out from the shadows and latch onto his face and arms, trapping thin wrists. Victor murmured in protest but words failed him, eyes trapped on the man’s burning gaze.

“Show me what kind of person you are Victor Nikiforov,” Nikita commanded, “Show me why you’re here.”

Victor grunted, eyes rolling in the back of his head, and he strangled on his scream.

 

  * Victor | Then •



She came into his life like a wildfire- bright and pulsing and so full of energy that captivated one’s very being. Victor had been fourteen at the time, and she’d glanced at him and smiled and Victor instantly fell in love. Yakov just frowned at him when he’d confessed later that day, shaking his head and warning him from her.

 _Dangerous_ , his coach had warned him, _and you’re far too young to get wrapped up into any scandals. Stay away Vitya._

Victor had nodded- the dutiful student. Yakov hadn’t seemed convinced, but he’d let the matter drop. There was no way a woman like that would ever fall for someone like Victor anyways and for a long time it seemed like nothing was going to come of it.

Until the worst day of Victor’s life- the day Georgi twisted his ankle.

Victor had been on break, which always meant he wasn’t allowed on the ice until the younger male finished. He was watching, water bottle in one hand and phone in the other. That was why he’d seen it before anybody else- had spent enough time memorizing everyone’s performance that stepped on the ice to recognize when and when not they’re in control of their movements.

“Georgi!” Victor protested, on his feet like that was enough to stop what he knew was inevitable.

Georgi’s skates slipped out from underneath him, and he went down with a cry of shock. Victor was on the ice in an instant, people screaming behind him like morphed applause. Somewhere in all the chaos he heard Yakov’s loud voice, raised with his concern.

Victor ignored all of it, slid to a stop beside the dark haired youth as he clutched at Georgi’s wrist so he won’t make it worst. The younger male was crying, his words unintelligible and Victor felt pity swell up inside him.

“Georgi, you’re okay. Don’t move, you’ll make it worst. You’re okay. Look at me. _Look at me_ ,” Victor snapped and Georgi’s eyes found his.

“Victor. Help me Victor. Please. It hurts,” Georgi pleaded, hands gripping Victor’s shirt with a desperate need.

“Look at me,” Victor grunted even though Georgi hadn’t stopped, “You’ll be fine. You’re fine. It’s just a sprain.”

“It _hurts_ Victor,” Georgi protested but then the medic were there, and Victor was forced backwards; he let himself be torn away, found Yakov as he focused on his student.

Several minutes later, they were gone and Victor was by himself. He breathed, eyes wide and panicked and his heart was hammering in his ears and he suddenly needed fresh air.

The woman was outside, burning cigarette in one hand as the smoke curling around her lithe form. If he was older- wiser- he would’ve seen it for what it was. He would’ve seen her for what he was, but he was young and frightened and desperately needed a woman’s comfort.

“Little snowflake,” she purred when she saw him before her face dropped into a frown and she asked with feign concern, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Victor promised because he was but Yakov left with Georgi and he was alone and he didn’t like being alone at the ice rink.

Some sort of recognition filtered in her gaze as she murmured, “I really hope that boy they just rushed to the hospital wasn’t your friend. He looked to be in real bad shape.”

“He’s fine. It was just a sprain,” but doubt had already planted itself inside of Victor and he couldn’t help but _wonder_ if he was going to lose someone else.

“You sure? You’re looking a little pale for someone so young. You want to explain that little mystery to me?” she ventured and some sort of sense filtered its way through the fog that settled on Victor’s mind.

He stepped back- mind flashing to a time when he’d been a child and his mother was alive and whispering to him to promise to never ever speak to strangers. The woman frowned, red hair cascading over thin shoulders and her lips were as red as her hair but when she smiled he couldn’t help but wonder how white her teeth was.

“I don’t know you. I’m not allowed to talk to you,” Victor said- his mom’s kind features shifting and morphing into red.

“Ah,” she whispered as she tossed her cigarette in the snow and declared, “Stranger danger. I’ve heard the phrase is all the rage in America. Well, little boy, my name is Nikita. There. Now _you’re_ the stranger, little snowflake.”

And some part Victor was convinced _that_ made sense and he offered, “My name is Victor. Victor Nikiforov.”

She smiled, and he marveled at just how _white_ her teeth were. Maybe that was why- three hours of standing in the cold speaking to her later- he found himself agreeing to coffee and she bought him a cake- brown sugar with cream cheese frosting and fresh berries sprinkled over the top- and he remembered thinking it tasted so good.

“How old are you Victor?” she finally asked- after Victor consumed his weight in the cake.

“Fourteen,” he answered honestly, his mother’s voice diluted in the back of his skull.

She smiled and he felt the cake settle in the pit of his stomach even as she said, “Fourteen. Practically a man.”

The words were wrong. He _knew_ the words were wrong, but she looked so beautiful and her smile was so bright, and Victor’s mind was buzzing in his skull. It wouldn’t be until later that he realized she’d spiked his coffee, using the sweetener Victor used as a cover-up.

At that moment, all he knew was that his pulse was racing and his brain was fuzzy and every sappy love story he’s ever read those were the signs of being in love. He’ll tell Yakov later that that was why he’d let her take him home where she fed him sweet buns and hot chocolate and he was practically buzzing.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” Nikita purred as Victor leaned against her side body heavy and mind stuffed with cotton, “Right my little snowflake?”

Her hand was massaging the inside of his thigh, red lips bending forward to ghost across his skin. He didn’t push away, his mind unable to process what was happening.

“I’ll take good care of you,” she promised over and over again but when Victor woke in the morning- head pulsing and body stripped of clothes- she was gone.

Victor never saw her again, and he swore to never get close to anyone. Not after that.

 

  * Yuuri | Now •



Nikita opened the door not even twenty minutes after dragging Victor into it, and Yuuri’s heart had lodged itself in the back of his throat and refused to leave. The man’s dark eyes were drawn and sullen and he looked regretful- a smug sort of satisfaction accompanying that thought as Yuuri forced himself in the room.

Victor was leaning against the bed, skin pale and waxy. His eyes were open but they were glossed over, trapped in Victor’s private world, but his chest was moving and Yuuri thanked the gods for that.

“Victor. Honey. Can you hear me?” Yuuri whispered delicately, afraid of the answer.

Victor didn’t move, didn’t twitch. Long silver hair pooled around him on the floor as his body listed to the side Falling, hurting and Yuuri was right there and powerless to do anything about it.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Yuri demanded behind Yuuri, his voice pitched with the anger Victor could feel pulsing through his frame.

Victor disappeared because Yuuri had left him. At the time he made a reasonable decision, his brain knew, but his heart knew that Victor was suddenly not there anymore because Yuuri hadn’t listened and left. Now Victor was there, but Yuuri couldn’t help him because of someone else.

“Nothing worse than what they have already done,” Nikita replied like that answered it.

Yuuri’s hands shook as he bent over to press a firm kiss against Victor’s forehead. He was vibrating with all the emotions he’s surpassed the last couple of days, and Victor was _right there_ but didn’t remember him and Yuuri couldn’t help him.

“Fix him,” Yuuri whispered and at first he thought no one had heard him.

“What?” Nikita snapped and Yuuri was suddenly so done with being the patient little boy whom always remembered his manners and never spoke out of turn.

Victor was right there, and he’d never been further away.

“Fix him. Turn him back. I don’t care. Just _help_ him,” Yuuri snarled and his voice was dark and his hands were shaking and Victor’s skin felt cold beneath him and Victor was looking without seeing and Yuuri just wanted him back.

Nikita glanced down at Victor’s lax features, and he must have saw something because he nodded and promised, “I cannot,” but then he turned and walked away and Yuuri wanted to scream at him but Victor lurched in his hold.

He sucked in a deep breath, eyes fluttering as they tried to refocus. Yuuri was practically sitting in the now younger male’s lap as he cupped Victor’s face and waited with teary anticipation. Victor’s eyes just furrowed, like he was confused or hurt.

“Yuuri?” he asked in a low rasp but it wasn’t in the recognition of the Victor Yuuri abandoned so he didn’t kiss him like he so badly wanted.

Instead he tipped their heads so their foreheads were pressed together and he reassured in a low tone, “It’s alright baby. I’m here, and I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

Hands pushed at his chest, forced him away and Victor was looking at him with an expression Yuuri’s never seen him wear before.

“I don’t understand,” Victor whispered, eyes flittering to Yuri and Yakov from over Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri wasn’t a fool but he’s never heard Victor speak of any _Nikita_ before.

“You waited for me once, when I didn’t remember you,” Yuuri explained, “and I’m going to wait for you. I love you Victor. More than anything else in this world. Please believe that.”

Victor furrowed his brows once more and he shook his head as he said, “I do Yuuri. I just-” but then he stopped and his expression grew frightened as he inquired, “The things that brought me here. They’re still out there, aren’t they?”

And it was ridiculous to pin this whole thing on some supernatural deity, but Yuuri swallowed and nodded because any potential threat towards Victor needed to be treated as real. He couldn’t afford to grow careless again- not when it almost cost him the most important thing in his life already.

“No baby, no. I won’t let them take you,” Yuuri denied and he meant it but knew he needed to add softly, “ _Again_.”

Blue eyes blinked at back at him- wide and teary and terrified- and the anger curled tightly in Yuuri’s stomach. Before- when Yuuri was younger than Victor- Yuuri never found the need to be overly protective of Victor. He was possessive and would occasionally get a flash of jealousy but never protective.

Now Victor was practically a child and he looked scared and vulnerable and Yuuri needed to protect him. He needed to keep him safe, and Nikita had threatened that and Yuuri suddenly saw static. It buzzed in his ears and made his temper flare.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” someone shouted at him- through the fuzzy whiteness- and hands reached out to grasp him and hold him back but every instinct inside of Yuuri cried for _blood_.

“Let me go!” Yuuri shouted but Yakov was strong enough to keep him from doing anything stupid.

Yuri’s face appeared through the haze and Yakov was holding him back but Yuri’s hands were on his chest as he screamed at him to calm down. Victor needed him to calm down and deal with this rationally. The mention of Victor calmed some of Yuuri’s rage, and he turned to see familiar blue eyes staring at him on an unfamiliar face.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, confused.

“I’m here Victor,” Yuuri reassured and Yakov let him go so he could go back to the skater and encircle him with his arms, “I’m here. Anything you need, I’m here. I love you baby. I love you so much.”

Victor sniffled, burrowing his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He never said he loved him back, and he didn’t take advantage of Yuuri’s proximity like he would’ve if he was older. All of his touches were hesitant and uncertain and it broke Yuuri’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Victor apologized, breath warm against Yuuri’s flesh, “I’m sorry I’m not the man you love.”

“No baby,” Yuuri denied squeezing Victor’s small frame before pulling him away so he could press their foreheads together, “Don’t be sorry. I love you. I love you so much, and that will never change. I’ll wait for you. I swear I will.”

Victor smiled- small and uncertain. Yuuri set his hand against his cheek- soft and tender and loving- and he swore he’d never let anyone touch him.

“Thank you,” was all Victor said and it sounded real and genuine and Yuuri wasn’t used to Victor being this _vulnerable_.

“Of course,” Yuuri agreed, wrapping his fingers in long pale hair.

Footsteps clambered back down the hall, signaling Nikita’s return. He stared at them disapprovingly before his eyes focused on Victor, and Yuuri felt the tension rise in the room as everyone grew uneasy. Nikita proved himself to be unstable and violent, and Yuuri couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.

He rose, squaring his shoulders. Nikita ignored him even when he did his best to keep Victor hidden behind him. Nikita’s presence must’ve awoken something inside of Victor because he rose to shaky feet, reaching out to lean on Yuuri for support.

Yuuri allowed it, wrapping his arm around the thin waist. He could feel the bones underneath the skin and clothes, and he swallowed as he tried pushing that in the far back of his memory.

“I had a daughter once, Victor Nikiforov,” Nikita explained like it was important, “She was like you in many ways. Young and innocent but haunted. Her mother hated her, tried drowning her when she turned thirteen. I brought her out here in hopes to get away, fell in love with another woman.”

“Why is this important?” Yuri snapped, bouncing from foot to foot like a caged animal ready to pounce any moment.

Nikita didn’t acknowledge him physically- didn’t even _glance_ at him. He just kept his eyes on Victor, searching.

“I married this woman and we lived together until my daughter turned nineteen. She died under mysterious circumstances, and everything began to unravel from there. My daughter became sporadic, paranoid, and she drove me away slowly. Then she was gone. Their first victim.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Yakov grunted though his eyes were sparkling with special interest.

“Most people that are brought here are bad,” Nikita explained and he treated Yakov with a bit more respect than either Yuri, “They are always naked and always reverted to the time they are at their worst. I have found only one exception.”

“You’re daughter,” Victor concluded and Yuuri tightened his grasp.

Nikita nodded as he reassured, “The only innocent victim until now. Victor Nikiforov, I believe you are the final victim.”

“To what?” Yuuri asked, unsure and sick at the prospect of other victims.

“A resurrection,” Nikita explained, “Human sacrifice. They trick their victims into pushing those around them away, and then take them when they’re certain no one will miss them. They end up here where they tell me what they do. Then they come and I never see them again.”

“Do they have a name?” Yakov inquired, probably the only one capable of speaking if Yuri’s expression was anything to go by.

Nikita’s eyes bored into Victor as he ground out, “No. Victor Nikiforov, you are the last sacrifice. That makes you the most valuable.”

“They’re not going to kill Victor,” Yuri protested looking like a child, “Right?”

Nikita’s eyes were dark and unreadable and sent chills down Yuuri’s spine, “They always get what they want, and the thing they want is Victor Nikiforov.”

In Yuuri’s arms Victor sagged- limp and boneless. His face turned waxy and pale, and his eyes became glassy and sightless. His breath grew labored, matched the howling wind outside.

“Victor honey?” Yuuri breathed, catching Victor in his arms.

Victor didn’t reply, his legs giving out beneath him. He tipped over, Yuuri being the only thing preventing him from collapsing completely.

“Vitya?” Yakov asked suddenly at Yuuri’s side and hands were grabbing at Yuri’s jacket wrapped tightly around Victor’s thin frame.

“They have come for him,” Nikita announced, the same time the door swung open in the other room and blew the fire out, “and this time they will not leave until they get him.”

Yuuri’s stomach sank at the implication, but that fear was nothing compared to what he felt when Victor’s eyes slipped closed and whatever proof of life he had dissipated with it.

 

  * Victor | Now •



( _You’re not yet finished_ )

Voices, cold and distant, echoed around Victor’s brain. He was cold and back in the clearing though it looked different. Off.

( _You belong to us_ )

Eyes from the book, watched from the distance. Figures, shadows, moved around him. It made him feel small and trapped, and all he could see was red hair and green eyes and promises that he’ll be okay.

( _Victor Nikiforov, time to die_ )

Victor screamed.

 

  * Yuuri | Then •



Yuuri didn’t go back to the apartment after spending the night on Yakov’s couch. He couldn’t handle seeing Victor’s face so soon, not when all he heard was Victor’s angry voice screaming at him.

_You’re not a victim, Yuuri._

Logically Yuuri knew that Victor wasn’t in the right of mind. He had looked unwell and had clung to Yuuri like his life depended on it before Yuuri started to push him away. It hadn’t mattered. He’d thought Victor was the one person who he’d never have to worry about yelling at him. Not like that.

So he walked around for a long time, his phone buzzing with calls and messages of a regretful Victor. Yuuri let it die- ate at a 24 hour café- before six hours had passed and he’d prepared himself mentally to face off with Victor.

Only he’d gone home and found the apartment empty with a note from Victor saying he had left to get Yuuri some takeout dumplings at a small Japanese chain restaurant several blocks from the apartment. Yuuri hadn’t paid it much attention then, crinkling it in his wrist and tossing it in the trash bin.

Makkachin was locked in the bedroom, overjoyed at being free. Yuuri scratched his face, confining in how much of an asshole Victor had been recently. Makkachin wagged his tail, like he understood and agreed and it made Yuuri feel a little better.

Only a shower and several hours of television later, Victor hadn’t come back.

Yuuri wasn’t overly concerned yet. He grabbed his phone off the charger and was surprised to find no new messages from Victor, and when he tried calling him it went to Victor’s voicemail.

“I’m sure it’s nothing Makkachin,” Yuuri promised, “Victor will be home soon.”

He didn’t, and Yuuri went to bed with a sour stomach. He did let Makkachin spend the night with him, snuggling near the coarse fur as he tried to not overthink it, and when Victor wasn’t back by morning he dug out the note to reassure himself that Victor had promised to return.

It did, but Victor was still gone and his phone was going to voicemail and Yuuri was starting to get a little concerned. He waited until the end of the day before going to Yakov’s house to ask if he’s heard from Victor.

Yuuri thought that was the worst day of his life- watching as Yakov shook his head, and Victor’s phone kept going to his damn voicemail.

He was wrong, of course. The day eighteen year old Victor suddenly went boneless in his arms with the words _they have come for him and this time they will not leave until they get him_ ringing around his skull was the worst day of his life.

 

  * Yakov | Now •



Somewhere amongst the darkness, Nikita was cursing. Loud and in an ancient language Yakov didn’t recognize. Yakov wasn’t sure the words would’ve helped anything- not with Victor cold and lifeless before him, Yuuri grabbing at his arms and face and begging for him to answer him.

“Someone needs to stay with him,” Nikita growled in Russian and Yakov could see the whites in Yuuri’s eyes as he looked up at Yakov for guidance.

“Keep him safe,” Yakov commanded, and on the outside it wasn’t much but rising to his feet to follow Nikita to the main room was the hardest decision he’s ever made.

He knew Yuuri loved Victor, and he knew Yuuri would protect him as fiercely as any of them. It was just for the longest time Yakov had always seen Victor as _his_ \- his son, his child. It didn’t matter. Yakov swore, silently, that he’d always protect him.

He’d made the same promise when scrawny Yuri showed up asking for lessons- the same Yuri who followed them looking small and frightened but there was a glint of determination in his gaze that made Yakov sick.

“No,” he shut down immediately, but Yuri gave him an incredulous look.

“We don’t have time to argue,” Yuri snapped back as the door swung back and slammed against the wall with a loud noise.

Yakov hated it, but he knew the kid was right. They didn’t have time to argue, not when Victor’s life was in danger.

“How do we stop something we can’t see?” Yakov asked instead of arguing like he wanted, every instinct in him screaming to lock Yuri in the room with Victor so he’d know they were both safe.

“We cannot,” Nikita replied, moving over to the fireplace and Yakov’s heart was too old for this, “They have not just come for Victor Nikiforov. They already have him.”

“Then why did we leave him?” Yuri snapped.

“Because their power is weak here,” Nikita explained, “We need to physically keep him in this house. The Japanese man will ensure that, no?”

“He will,” Yakov assured though he wasn’t sure what he was promising with that.

“Good,” Nikita hummed in approval as he moved past them to grab a small glass vial off the nightstand beside the couch, “This is not a physical fight.”

“What do you mean?” Yakov demanded, “How do we save Victor?”

“One of you needs to drink this,” Nikita explained holding up the vial for them to see, “Victor is the only one who can win, but they never know how to fight. I told one of them once but it wasn’t enough. This will take you to where they have taken him, and you can tell him how to win.”

“So we’re going into Victor’s mind?” Yuri demanded and it sounded insane but Yakov was more concerned by the fact that he wasn’t as skeptical of that as he should be.

Nikita just shrugged before grumbling lowly in the back of his throat, “In a sense. It has to be someone he trusts. Someone he will listen to.”

Which meant Yakov, and everyone in the room knew that. Something about that just seemed wrong and it unsettled something inside of Yakov’s gut.

So he shook his head when he realized Nikita and Yuri were staring at him expectantly and managed out a low, “I can’t.”

Yuri gave him a sharp look as he protested, “Yakov, we don’t have time.”

“ _No_ ,” Yakov snapped, “Vitya has made a second career by _not_ listening to me. He ran off to Japan to get his heartbroken, and it worked out in the end but I fought it every second. The only person I’ve ever seen him listen to is Yuuri.”

Nikita turned to Yuri, misunderstanding.

“Not me,” Yuri informed him glancing at the vial but not taking it, “ _His_ Yuuri. The Japanese Yuuri. He’s the only person that he’s ever listened to.”

Nikita’s large hand wrapped around the vial tightly, and his face settled into a deeper glare than usual. He was growing impatient, Yakov realized. He didn’t want Victor to die. Unsurprisingly enough, that brought little comfort to Yakov.

“He does not know that Yuuri yet,” Nikita informed them obviously, “and he is unsure rather he can trust him. He made a vow, long ago.”

Yakov swallowed- long since forgotten of the day Victor showed up to practice with his pupils so dilated his eyes were practically black and he was shaking. Yakov still felt sick when he thought of the moment he finally convinced Victor to open up about what happened.

Nikita was fortunate she ran. Otherwise she’d have had to deal with an angry Yakov and Lilia, and Lilia is a force to be reckoned with when one of the kids are involved.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Yuri demanded, sweetly oblivious and Victor had been a little younger than Victor had when it happened and Yakov felt sick with anger.

“He was young and it was a mistake but he initiated everything with Yuuri. At least consciously,” Yakov reasoned looking at Nikita because he couldn’t look at Yuri without seeing child Victor crying and begging for Yakov to not leave him.

_Please Yakov. Don’t leave me. I love you Yakov. Please, please, please._

“Yuuri’s the only person he’s ever listened to,” Yakov reassured before he sucked in a deep breath, pinched his nose and said, “We don’t have time. Yuuri is the one who needs to do this.”

Nikita sneered his teeth and growled, “Fine.”

And the crazy part, Yakov felt relieved to hear that. Up until the door slammed open behind them once more, clanging against the door allowing cold air to blow in around them. Yuri cursed vehemently as he spun and hug his center tightly.

“We don’t have much time,” Nikita ground out before making his way to the room they left Victor with Yuuri in.

Victor didn’t look any better, though he didn’t appear to have worsened so Yakov decided to count their small victories. Yuuri looked moments from losing it- didn’t even acknowledge them when they walked into the room. He wasn’t crying- knew Victor didn’t need that at the moment- but Victor’s breathing was shallow and Yuuri’s begging wasn’t doing anything.

Victor was still cold and limp and the only sign of life was the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It was unnatural- seeing him so still.

Yuri knelt down beside Yuuri and his voice was gentle and kind as he reached out to grasp his arm and whisper, “We found a way to save Victor, but we have to act fast.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide and hopeful at the prospect of saving Victor and his eyes found Yakov as he demanded, “How?”

“You need to drink this,” Nikita explained stepping forward, “and when you do you need to find Victor and you need to get him to fight it. You need to get him to believe that he is the man you fell in love with.”

Yuuri frowned, uneasy by how seemingly easy saving Victor was.

“That’s it?” he asked incredulous.

Nikita nodded but warned, “Victor is not the man you remembered. He is a scared kid- haunted by his past. You will need to keep that in mind when you speak with him.”

“And if I do Victor will return to me?” Yuuri clarified and Nikita nodded slowly.

That was all Yuuri needed. He was on his feet, downing the entire bottle in one gulp. It acted instantly, eyes rolling in the back of his skull and his knees buckled with his dead weight. Yuri caught him and didn’t fall, glancing up at Yakov with an uncertain expression.

“Now we wait,” Nikita replied, “and make sure Victor stays in the house.”

“Where would he go?” Yuri demanded, laying Yuuri beside Victor, “He’s practically in a coma.”

“Even so what is happening with Victor’s mentality is only half the battle,” Nikita explained about the same time the inhuman screeching started, “They need his body to survive. We have to keep it here or you will lose him.”

Scratching and Nikita slammed the door shut before commanding, “Get them both on the bed and one of you need to stay in case they get free.”

“ _Yuri_ ,” Yakov barked because it was bad enough he was involved and now Yuuri was vulnerable as well, and he didn’t want to ponder on what would happen if Yuuri couldn’t convince Victor to fight.

Yuri didn’t argue, which was the only positive development that came out of this whole thing. He just nodded before crouching down to force Yuuri and Victor onto the bed.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Yuri promised before his eyes flickered to the door and hissed, “Don’t die.”

Yakov didn’t laugh because that wasn’t him. He didn’t even smile, but his heart lightened for the slightest moment. Yuuri and Victor were as safe as they could be, and Yakov wasn’t going to let anything in that room.

“So we need to physically fight something without a body?” Yakov asked Nikita instead, and the man shrugged like that explained everything.

Yuri glanced down at Victor’s sleeping face and murmured a soft, “If this idiot is our last hope then we’re all dead.”

What sounded like claws scraped down the door. Yakov stepped forward, holding the door so it couldn’t get in. Nikita didn’t move. He just glared.

“Fire is the only thing that keeps them at bay,” Nikita explained when Yakov glared at him, “You must light it or they will claim him.”

As if on cue, Victor sat upright with a gasp. Yakov felt relief up until he saw the young man’s eyes. Vacant and empty and dead.

“Vitya?” Yakov inquired but the only answer he got was Victor swinging his legs over the bed and started towards the door.

Yuri grabbed at his arms but even eighteen Victor was stronger and Yuri could never consciously hurt him. Victor’s body broke free easily and started towards the door. Nikita cursed, latching around Victor’s waist and tossing him back on the bed.

“Don’t _hurt_ him,” Yuri protested even as Nikita turned back to Yakov and barked out roughly, “We need the fire going! _Now!_ ”

Yakov didn’t nod. He didn’t respond at all. He just threw open the door and ignored the sudden burst of cold air as he made his way down the hall.

 

  * Victor | Then •



Yuuri didn’t come home, but Yakov sent him a text reassuring him that Yuuri was alive and fine with him and Victor was to stop trying to contact him. Yuuri would be back tomorrow.

Victor wished he could’ve taken it back- wished he wasn’t losing so much time in his life. All he knew was that he’d get weird and when the world cleared Yuuri was always angry but wouldn’t talk to him about it. Victor had just wanted everything to go back to normal.

The last memory he’d had was walking with Yuuri to the ice cream parlor. He remembered him smiling- soft and gentle- and Victor’s heart pulsed with a pain only he could feel. He was Victor’s _only_ thing, and Victor was losing him somehow.

Then the next moment Victor was on his couch and Yuuri looked like he’d just punched him, and Victor had no evidence he hadn’t, and- oh _god_ \- Victor forgot how to breathe.

Yuuri was gone, and Makkachin was distant. Victor could feel his world crumble around him and he spent the entire night on his kitchen floor nursing a bottle of vodka. It was ridiculous and made him feel like a teenage girl that just had her heart broken.

He hadn’t slept that night, and in the morning Yuuri didn’t come back. Victor tried calling and texting but after several hours it just started going straight to voicemail. Yuuri’s phone was dead, and he still wasn’t home.

So Victor wrote a note and left to buy food for Yuuri because he was tired and drunk and all he knew was that he couldn’t lose Yuuri. Only when he went to leave Makkachin latched onto the back of his jacket with his teeth and growled low in the back of his throat.

“No. Let go,” Victor protested, waving his arms at his dog.

Makkachin didn’t, and when Victor pried him off him he just started barking and leapt in front of the door.

“No. Bad dog,” Victor growled but Makkachin wasn’t listening to him so Victor ended up locking him in the bedroom reassuring that he’d be home soon.

He wasn’t. He never even saw the car until he was flying over the windshield.

The next thing he remembers, he wakes up freezing.

 

  * Yuuri | Now •



Yuuri saw white, and then the cold filtered through the fuzzy whiteness and Yuuri shook his head to clear it. Sound came next, low hissing and whispering but it was all nonsense. Yuuri didn’t care for it much, not when he could hear Victor screaming.

“Victor!” Yuuri shouted, running towards the sound.

That’s when the white shifted, morphing into trees and snow and shadows dancing from side to side. Yuuri ignored all of that because Victor was _right there_ , and he needed to get to him. He needed to save him.

Victor’s scream cut off suddenly, Yuuri’s heart stopping with it. He forgot how to breathe, and he felt panic start to cloud his vision.

“ _Victor!_ ” he screamed- voice breaking with his desperation.

Victor didn’t reply so Yuuri took a gamble and ran forward. He found Victor in a clearing, on his knees. His skin was practically white, long white hair whipping around him. It was his eyes that caught Yuuri’s attention- large and sightless and terrified.

“ _Vitya!_ ” Yuuri cried, closing the distance between them and sliding to a stop on his knees in front of Victor.

Victor didn’t react- not even when Yuuri enclosed him in a hug. His skin was icy cold, and he was shaking though Yuuri wasn’t sure that it was because of the weather. He pulled Victor away, capturing his face in his hands and _holding_ him.

“Victor. Come back to me honey. Please, I can’t do this without you,” Yuuri begged, but Victor didn’t look like he could hear him.

Despair began to overwhelm Yuuri’s chest, and the tears came on their own. They rolled down his cheeks, and they felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. Victor was gone. Yuuri had been too late, and he’d lost the most important thing in his life.

“I’m so sorry Vitya,” Yuuri babbled because it felt wrong to not say anything, “This is my fault. I left you, and they got you because of it. I’m sorry. I failed you, Victor, and I’m sorry.”

Victor didn’t respond.

His eyes glossed over and his hands shook and he was so cold and dead to the touch and Yuuri was _right there_. Dammit. Yuuri was right there and so useless and he was going to lose Victor because of it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated allowing his sorrow to overwhelm him and he hunched over as his tears slid down his face, “I should’ve been better. You deserved better. I’m sorry. I left you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Victor’s eyebrows twitched and he whispered a soft, “ _Chris._ ”

Yuuri’s head whipped up, and he cupped his fiancé’s face in his hands as he nodded his head. At that moment Victor could’ve said a million people’s name that wasn’t Yuuri as long as he was speaking.

“Yes baby, yes. You remember Chris, don’t you? Tell me about him,” Yuuri urged even though he felt a stab of jealousy that Chris was the person that brought Victor back.

He swallowed the feeling. Anything that brought Victor back to him, and if they somehow manage to survive he may even buy Chris a fruit basket.

Victor flinched, pulling away, as he murmured in a soft tone, “Nikita, Chris. Please, don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Yuuri promised stroking Victor’s features, “Come back to me baby. Please, I can’t do this without you.”

“Chris. _Chris_. Help me Chris. I don’t feel good,” Victor muttered so Yuuri brought him in for another hug and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly.

“I love you Vitya,” he promised in the crook of Victor’s neck, “so come back. Please come back.”

“Chris I- Chris,” Victor was babbling and his skin was hot to the touch now and he looked like he was fading so he murmured, “Yuuri? Why are you here Yuuri?”

Yuuri smiled at his name as he explained tearfully, “I already told you, I’m not letting anybody take you. You’re mine and never forget that.”

Victor smiled drowsily and he wrinkled his nose before inquiring, “Do you know Chris?”

Yuuri’s smile felt heavy on his face as he nodded, “Yes. I know Chris. He’s a good man and even finer friend.”

“Yeah. He is,” Victor agreed before his head tipped forward; Yuuri caught it, slapping his cheeks as protests and pleas spilled from his lips.

“Tell me about him Victor,” Yuuri begged struggling to keep Victor from folding in on himself completely, “Tell me about Chris.”

“He’s the first,” Victor admitted before shaking his head and correcting, “After Nikita. He was the first I broke my promise to. My first friend.”

Yuuri’s heart broke at the implication and he mumbled, “You never told me Victor.”

Victor shook his head, “I never told Chris. Yakov was the only one. Chris didn’t need to know. Chris was- was-”

His body went limp, and Yuuri shook his head because he was _so close_. He couldn’t lose Victor again. He _couldn’t_.

“I know baby. I know,” Yuuri agreed hurriedly, a chill creeping down his spine, “and somehow you found it in yourself to love me. Do you remember that Victor? Do you remember loving me?”

Victor’s head tilted so it was pressed against Yuuri’s collarbone so Yuuri felt Victor’s words brush themselves against his skin.

“You were drunk,” Victor breathed, “You lost so you got drunk. You acted like an idiot.”

“Yes Victor,” Yuuri agreed with a nod, “I was such an idiot, but you fell in love with me. Do you remember that?”

Victor shook his head before falling limp.

 

  * Yakov | Now •



The wind was howling, the door banging in steady rhythm. Yakov could feel his heart hammering in the base of his throat, and all he saw was Victor- pale and lifeless- moving towards the things that want to kill him.

The door shut easily, and he slid the latch in place before turning towards the fireplace. Frost had already started to settle over the furniture, and Yakov figured that was why the door closed with such ease. It wasn’t keeping anything out. They were already in there.

He clambered over to where the fireplace sat, igniting it in the way he’s seen Nikita do. Almost instantly the air was sucked out of the room and Yakov choked.

From the other room he could hear Yuri scream for him. Yakov couldn’t respond, his voice lost. His stomach dropped at the implication of that as he forced himself to move. The air was still cold and stale and Yakov’s mind was whirling with the wind outside.

Yuri was on his feet, Yuuri still on the bed behind him. Nikita was in the middle of the room, Victor draped over his arm. Long hair hung over his features, hiding his face. Even still, Yakov could see how cold and pale he looked.

“What happened?” Yakov demanded, finding his voice at the sight of Victor, “I thought that would work.”

“Yuuri is failing,” Nikita explained, “They have Victor. You have already failed.”

“No,” Yuri murmured turning to bend over Yuuri on the bed, fingers clutching at Yuuri’s dark jacket as he gave a sharp shake and demanded hotly, “You _idiot_. Victor needs you so save him. _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, and Victor didn’t move.

Yuri spun so he was facing Nikita and he growled- low and feral, “You’re the expert. Do something. Help him.”

“I cannot,” Nikita replied without looking at the teenager as he moved over to drop Victor’s limp form back on the bed, “Much like my daughter, Victor Nikiforov is lost. He is dead. They won.”

 

  * Victor | Now •



Victor was numb.

He couldn’t feel the pain he was almost certain he was feeling. He wasn’t cold, like he knew he should be. He was just nothing, and it was the best he’s felt in a long time.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, he just couldn’t remember _why_ it was wrong.

“Yakov?” he asked in the void of the nothingness, “Yakov, I don’t feel right. Yakov?”

( _You belong to us, Victor_ )

“ _Victor!_ ”

That wasn’t Yakov’s voice. Neither one of them were, and they were foreign and frightening and Victor had never felt more lost.

 _No. That isn’t right_ , a small voice corrected, _you’re not lost. You’re not confused. You know him. You love him._

( _Liar_ )

“Victor!” the voice returned, and Victor screamed because he just didn’t know; everything inside him was saying one thing but logically he knew that was impossible.

He’d swore to never get close to anyone ever again. He _swore_ because the only thing that could come from that is more pain and humiliation and Yakov had always been right. People are always looking to take advantage of him.

_That’s not true. Chris only wanted to be your friend. Your competitor. Not everyone is Nikita._

But love? Yuuri obviously loved him, and Yuri had reassured that they were happy together. Victor just couldn’t see himself _that_ happy with anyone- sure they were just romanticizing a relationship broken by whatever this was.

_I’ll wait for you._

_Never take your eyes off me._

_Be my coach, Victor._

Victor blinked, sucked in a heavy breath. The numb obliviousness started to fade with that, and he realized everything in him hurts. It was a strange transition, one that became stranger still when he realized he enjoyed not being numb more.

“Victor?” someone called and they sounded frightened and familiar, and Victor never wanted him to sound like that again.

“Yuuri?” Victor croaked out, eyes heavy and limbs even heavier as he felt himself tip over to the side.

Arms kept him upright as Yuuri’s voice agreed teary, “Yes. Yes. Victor. It’s me. Open your eyes. Please, Victor, come back to me.”

Victor could never disobey him- not even when his mind was wrapped in tight cotton that muffled most of his sense.

He reached out, groping blindly. Fingers latched onto the back of someone’s neck, and he jerked forward. Yuuri tumbled forward, but he didn’t protest. He just kept staring at Victor like any moment he was going to lose him.

“Vitya?” Yuuri inquired, and his hands were patting against Victor’s skin and clothes leaving goosebumps running along his flesh.

“Yuuri,” Victor choked as warmth burst to his face and he said pathetically, “Don’t leave me. I’m so hot. Please Yuuri, please.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri promised instantly- sad and determined and so unlike him, “I won’t. Just don’t go to sleep again. Please, Victor. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Victor hummed, feeling ridiculously happy and fuzzy, “You’re my whole world.”

( _Your world belongs to us, Victor_ )

( _You belong to us_ )

Shadows danced behind Yuuri, and Victor opened his mouth to warn him. Eyes- dark and piercing and evil- stared back at Victor. Yuuri didn’t see him, never got a chance, before he gasped and something warm and wet splattered Victor’s front. Brown eyes- wide with shock- clouded over with death and Victor screamed again.

( _You’re not yet finished, Victor_ )

( _You belong to us_ )

“No,” Victor sobbed, scrambling.

He sat up, arms encircling around Yuuri’s center. Red blossomed on the front of his shirt- like a morbid flower. Victor shook his head in denial, pleas spilling from his lips. Yuuri didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him. He was dead, and Victor had let him die.

_I’ll wait for you to remember me Victor, like you did._

“I do Yuuri,” Victor promised even though he knew it was too late, “I love you Yuuri. I remember you. Please don’t leave me. I love you. Please Yuuri. Please.”

Yuuri didn’t answer. He couldn’t, and the shadows were still everywhere and Victor felt so hot and cold and somewhere he thought he was already dead.

( _You belong to us, Victor_ )

“ _No_ ,” Victor protested, “I don’t. You killed him, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”

Victor wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that burning hot consumed him, the fire’s fingers clawing up from his center and overwhelming him, and all he saw was white and heard static.

“ _Vitya?_ ” a voice called gently and someone stroked his cheeks softly, “Come back to me Vitya. Please.”

Victor recognized that tone. It made him sad because the owner was dead, and now he supposed he was as well. That meant Yakov and Yuri would be next. He was going to lose those he cared for because he was a foolish _idiot_.

“Victor? Open your eyes honey,” Yuuri prodded, grabbing and pulling at his face and Victor had never been one capable of disobeying.

“Yuuri,” Victor croaked sadly, “Yuuri. I’m sorry. Yuuri, _please_.”

“I’m here baby,” Yuuri reassured, worried face swimming into Victor’s vision, “That’s it. I love you. Come back to me. I love you so much.”

Victor wrinkled his nose. He was numb again, and his head still felt weird, but he could see the walls of one of Nikita’s room surrounding them. That was a strange place for the afterlife.

Somewhere he heard a hissed, “ _Sonovabitch_.”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeated clearer as he reached out to latch onto Yuuri’s arm, “Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled, white teeth flashing at him. It made Victor’s heart hurt, knowing that smile was dead because of him.

“I’m sorry Yuuri,” Victor apologized again, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Vitya,” Yuuri reassured entwining their hands together and pressing a firm kiss against the flesh, “You’re okay now. I love you. I love you so much.”

Victor shook his head because- _why was he the only one upset about this_ \- as he muttered, “You’re dead Yuuri. I’m sorry. You died because of me.”

Yuuri shook his head, Victor’s hand pressed against Yuuri’s nose. His eyes were wet but his smile was bright and loving and Victor remembered why he fell so hard for this man.

“I’m not dead, and neither are you,” Yuuri reassured.

“And we’re not out of this yet,” Yuri reminded unhelpfully and Victor sought the kid out- needing his strength more than he ever thought possible, “Get your act together old man.”

Victor found him, and he looked frightened. Something surprising jolted in Victor’s chest at the realization, hating whenever the kid looked afraid.

“He’s right Vitya,” Yakov agreed, “Whatever you did to them isn’t permeant.”

The words made sense but not really. Victor blinked, sitting on his elbows. That’s when he realized he was naked again, blankets pooled around his hips. He glared at it as realization slowly crept on him. He wasn’t a child anymore. Outside, the wind was howling.

( _You belong to us, Victor_ )

( _Come back_ )

Victor’s mind flashed back a clearing with a lifeless Yuuri underneath him. He winced, anger curling in his gut.

He reached out, enclosing Yuuri’s face in his hands. Yuuri’s eyes widened as Victor jerked forward and captured his mouth with his. It wasn’t a long kiss, but Yuuri melted against him instantly. He moaned softly, but then Victor pulled away because they were still under threat and they didn’t have time.

“What do we need to do?” Victor asked, eyes flickering over to where Nikita was watching with a sour expression.

“Fire is the only thing that kills it,” Nikita explained instantly, “They need to go to the main room and start the fire.”

“And that will kill them?” Yuuri asked still at Victor’s side, hand pressed against his protectively.

Nikita didn’t look at him- didn’t even glance at him- as he said gravelly, “It will stop them.”

( _You’re not yet finished, Victor_ )

( _Come back to us_ )

Victor nodded at the voices only he could hear. Only when he rose from the bed, Yuuri followed after him. He looked protective and determined, but all Victor saw was his lifeless form in that clearing.

“No my love,” Victor protested as he drew Victor back into a kiss, “Stay here where it’s safe.”

“I won’t Victor,” Yuuri denied with a firm shake of his head, fingers latching onto Victor’s arms, “I can’t lose you.”

Victor brought them into another kiss before murmuring against pale skin, “Nor I you. It’ll be okay. I’ll come back. I promise.”

“ _Victor_ ,” Yakov warned but Victor was already moving, the wind beating madly against the house.

Victor sought out Nikita once he made it to the door and he commanded surprisingly strong, “Keep them safe.”

Nikita just snorted, “You are a good man Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor took that as a yes, and he threw open the bedroom door. Down the hall he heard the wind finally managing to break the door down, wood splintering. The fire immediately blew out, cold fingers twisting itself around Victor’s frame.

Victor moved forward, his breath thick in front of him. The cold started to curl beneath his skin, setting somewhere deep in his bones. By the time he made it to the living room he forgot what it was like to be warm.

He didn’t care. These things hurt Yuuri. These things placed Yakov and Yuri in danger, and Victor had been called selfish before but he suddenly didn’t care about himself. He just needed them to be safe.

He made it to the fireplace, his skin prickled underneath the blanket. His knees grew weak and he ended up on his knees- the wind howling around him. He ignored all of that, setting the fire. The wind screamed, and the flames flickered.

Victor dropped the blanket onto the flames, the object catching instantly. He watched in fascination as the flames turned blue and the frost started to melt but all Victor felt was cold and tired and the wind was screeching at him.

“You lost,” he breathed before all the air left the room and he sank to the ground limply; the next thing he knows he’s waking up in his room in his apartment in St. Petersburg.

“Yuuri?” he called as the realization he was alone enclosed around him, suffocating him.

He scrambled out of the bed, Makkachin making a distressed noise as Victor woke him up in his mad dash. Victor immediately apologized to the dog, reaching out to pet and kiss the poodle’s head and ears. Even so, he didn’t miss it when the bedroom door opened- hard to when it suddenly banged against the wall.

Yuuri’s distressed face met his and almost instantly it melted into relief. Victor blinked, caught off-guard when Yuuri suddenly leapt at him and they ended up sprawled out on the bed.

“I was so worried about you Vitya,” Yuuri admitted between his kisses amongst Victor’s skin; Victor shivered, hands encircling around dark hair.

Victor burrowed his nose in the crook of Yuuri’s neck as small moans of pleasure escaped his mouth even as he shook his head. Yuuri ignored him, focused on covering Victor’s chest with kisses now.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor protested turning his head, “Are Yakov and Yuri okay?”

Yuuri moved back to Victor’s face as he nodded somewhere between kissing Victor’s nose and cheek and forehead, his own cheeks flamed with need. Victor was more than willing to give, he just needed to make sure everyone was alright.

He grasped Yuuri’s cheeks and pulled him away before asking, “What happened? After the fire?”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose before admitting, “I’m not sure. I woke up in the front seat of Yakov’s car. We didn’t really stick around to ask many questions after that.”

Victor frowned because that wasn’t right. Yuuri didn’t seem to share his feelings, already back to kissing him between promises that he loved him- he loved him so much.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor protested, pushing Yuuri’s shoulders this time but Yuuri’s impatient face took whatever coherent thought Victor had and he found himself noting slyly, “You’re not usually so bold, my love.”

Yuuri sighed at the truth but he reached down to cup himself between his legs as he admitted lowly, “I’m just so hard right now Victor. Will you help me?”

Victor’s stomach jolted as he felt a stupid smile cross his features. He smiled lazily and when Yuuri resumed proving just how much he loved Victor, Victor let him. Yuuri trailed kisses down Victor’s stomach before stopping at his groin, fingers messaging it slowly.

“I love you Victor,” Yuuri breathed as long fingers trailed to Victor’s butt, “You know that right?”

Victor’s back arched at the intrusion and he grunted out a husky, “ _Yuuri!_ ”

Fueled by something in Victor’s voice, he continued to poke and prod inside of Victor until he found that spot that made Victor scream as white flashed across his vision. It made Yuuri smile mischievously and Victor silently swore vengeance but then Yuuri’s fingers were moving and consistently hit that spot, leaving Victor a blubbering idiot.

Victor groaned as he withered under Yuuri’s weight. He was moaning and calling Yuuri’s name and it only seemed to encourage Yuuri as he shifted, his hand disappearing.

“You’re so good. So good to me,” Yuuri encouraged as he bent over to kiss Victor, “I’m going to make you feel good. I love you. I love you so much Victor.”

“I love you too,” Victor ground out before Yuuri entered him and started moving; Victor cried out encouragingly, entangling fingers through dark hair and pulling so they were kissing each other until Yuuri finished and crawled over beside him.

That night, Victor went to bed warm.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry its so long and not much happens. I just really wanted hurt Victor and found most people on here write lovely stories where Yuuri or Yuri end up in wonderfully amounts of pain. So I indulged and this is why I need people to stop me when I get it in my head to do things.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed nevertheless.


End file.
